


The Bat and The Phoenix

by Alpha19



Category: DC Animated Universe, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Adopted Harry Potter, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Harry Potter was Adopted by Other(s), Ravenclaw Harry, Some DC characters are Wizards, Some HP characters are Metahumans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 17:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11902869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpha19/pseuds/Alpha19
Summary: HP/DC crossoverWhen Harry is taken to Gotham City by his Uncle, Aunt, and Cousin. His family are killed by the Joker and he is raised by Bruce Wayne, and eventually learns Bruce's secret and becomes Batman's sidekick; The Phoenix. At age eleven his Hogwarts letter arrives, and he goes; but this Harry is trained by the world's greatest detective and knows that people are out to use and manipulate him.





	1. Chapter 1

A scrawny young boy listened to his family talk, in the cupboard under the stairs that he was forced to call his bedroom. The boy was Harry Potter, his 'family' was his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and his cousin Dudley.

His Uncle Vernon was a large man, in both height and weight, while his Aunt Petunia was a long-necked woman whose ears were constantly scanning for gossip. Dudley was arguably the worst, he was as round as he was tall, and took a sick and sadistic delight in torturing Harry anyway he could think of.

Harry pressed his ear against the cupboard door, straining to hear his Uncle's voice. "I'm telling you it's a great opportunity Tunie," Uncle Vernon said convincingly. "This is a great opportunity for us and for Grunnings."

 _So, it's about Grunnings,_  Harry thought to himself. Grunnings was the company that his Uncle Vernon worked for, which made and sold drills.

"But why us?" Aunt Petunia asked, her voice one of annoyance. "And why all of us"?

"Nobody else in the company wants to do it. And we all must go because the investor is a family man and we need to make a good impression by having him meet another family man," Vernon responded.

"But what about  _him_?" Petunia replied, and Harry knew that he was the 'him' in question.

"I'm sure the cat lady can look after him for the week." Vernon's voice was smooth, likely having rehearsed and planned his reply.

"She's in hospital, one of her cats tripped her up," Petunia's voice was frustrated. "What about Marge?"

"At the vets, Ripper ate something he shouldn't've."

The two adults were silent for a minute, both considering their options. Eventually Vernon sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to take him with us."

Vernon's heavy footsteps approached the door, and Harry scurried into the corner to hide the fact he was listening to their conversation. "Boy!" Vernon yelled us he opened the door. "The family is going to America for my business, and you're coming with us." Harry nodded as his Uncle paused and narrowed his gaze at him. "But, if you mess this up for me, you will regret it." With that said, Vernon slammed the door shut and walked away.

The days leading up to the trip passed quickly, with Vernon and Petunia buying Dudley a variety of new clothes and toys and Harry nothing.

Their suitcases were overflowing, with all manner of items, while Harry's only luggage was one of Dudley's old backpacks that had been found in the attic.

Getting in the car to drive to the airport, Vernon turned to look at Harry. "Remember what I said boy, if you mess this opportunity up for me, you will regret it."

Harry nodded, weakly, as Dudley laughed and Petunia steeled her glare. Harry sat in silence as the family drove to the airport and eventually boarded their plane. Dudley was sat by the window, likely to give his simple brain something to distract itself, Petunia sat in the middle, and Vernon sat in the aisle for the extra leg room his large body desperately needed. Harry, however, was on the aisle seat next to his Uncle, where his Uncle could observe and yell at Harry if needed. There was no need, Harry sat quietly as the plane flew, as opposed to Dudley who threw a tantrum halfway through the flight as the window view failed to amuse him anymore. Instead he began to scream at how he was missing the new episode of his favourite cartoon.

Eventually, the plane landed with a shake and slowed down until it stopped. The pilot's voice came over the intercom, "The local time is 11am. We hope you enjoy your stay in Gotham City."

* * *

**Review.**


	2. The Bat

The family checked into the expensive hotel and went to their room. Vernon and Petunia took the queen-sized bed, Dudley took the double bed against and Harry simply had a blanket thrown to him and told to sleep on the floor. "But there's room on Dudley's bed," Harry protested.

Petunia glared at him, and reassured Dudley that he wouldn't have to share a bed with Harry. Vernon was less vocal and slapped Harry across the face, sending him to the floor before standing over him and yelling, "Enough of your backtalk. Any of that at the meeting and you will not be coming back home with us. Understood?"

Harry felt the tears in his eyes but refused to let them fall, as his face burnt where he was hit. Harry nodded and Vernon sneered but backed away.

Harry got to his feet, went to the bathroom in attempt to look presentable, and then sat on his blanket in total silence.

Hours passed an eventually Harry was ordered to get ready. He got dressed in a fitting-suit, one of the only things that his Uncle Vernon had bought him, and waited for Dudley to finish his tantrum.

Dudley was stomping his feet in frustration. "I don't want to go!" he shouted, snot seeping from his nose. "It's going to be boring!"

"I know Duddykins," Aunt Petunia said in a sickly-sweet voice. "But it's at a restaurant and we'll let you eat whatever you want, won't we Vernon?"

Vernon nodded swiftly. "Anything for my growing boy," he said, patting Dudley on the back, who had instantly calmed at the mention of food.

As Petunia cleaned Dudley's face and got him dressed in his suit (Harry was reminded of a bowling ball, black and round), Harry waited by the door and quickly the four walked to the nearby restaurant where the business meeting was taking place. Vernon made sure that they got to the meeting place early, so he could prep his family and what and what not to say.

Entering the building, Vernon walked grandly in an attempt to look far more important than he was until he reached the staff podium. "We have a reservation for a table for eight at five o'clock," he declared. Harry looked around at the restaurant, it was a posh looking building, with red tablecloths draped over the tables and the smell of sizzling meat filled the air.

The staff worker looked nonplussed by Vernon's high-and-mighty attitude. "And the reservation name?"

Vernon stuck out his chest, as though this would increase his influence. "Wayne," he said pompously. "Bruce Wayne."

The server's eyes widened. "Right this way." The server directed the family to a table at the back of the room. "I'm sure Mr Wayne will be along shorty." Vernon nodded, and directed his family at where to sit. Vernon sat at the end of the table, opposite where Mr Wayne would sit. Petunia sat next to Vernon so she could contribute to the conversation between Vernon and Mr Wayne while still being able to quieten Dudley if needed. Dudley was next to Petunia in attempt to keep him out of the adult conversation. Harry was next to Dudley, to keep him out of the way, where he could be seen but not have a say in anything.

When the server was out of earshot, Vernon looked at the family. He turned to Petunia first, "Alright love, if Mr Wayne asks about the family, we are a typical loving family who adopted  _him_ ," he glared at Harry who sank into his seat, "after the death of his parents. The Wayne man adopted his kid, so he'll eat that up." Petunia nodded politely to show her understanding.

Vernon looked at Dudley next. "Alright Dudders, unless Mr Wayne talks to you, you do not say anything to him. This is an adult conversation, so to keep you busy we'll buy you whatever you want to eat." Dudley grinned at the bribe of food and immediately lunged for a menu.

Glaring, Vernon turned his attention to Harry. "You do not say anything to Mr Wayne. You can talk to the kid he brings, but you do not say or do anything that can ruin this for me. Understood?" Harry nodded and sat quietly until Mr Wayne and his adopted-son approached, both dressed in formal suits and ties. Mr Wayne appeared to be in his thirties and was lean and well-muscled as opposed to Vernon's blubber. The son looked to be about ten, and was tall and thin, compared to Dudley's fat and Harry's scrawniness.

Vernon stuck his hand out for a handshake. "Mr Wayne," he said professionally, trying to show superiority by tightly holding the handshake, only to wince as Mr Wayne returned the firm handshake.

"Call me Bruce," he replied with a sparking smile. "This is my ward, Dick." He indicated the boy standing with him, who gave a formal inclination of the head as Dudley tried to hide his giggles at the name.

"In that case, call me Vernon. This is my wife Petunia." He waved his hand to Petunia, who smiled in response. "Our son, Dudley." He pointed to Dudley, who was too busy to react as he was still trying to decide what he wanted from the menu. Finally, he pointed at Harry. "And this is our adopted son, who we kindly took in after the tragic deaths of his parents," Vernon said with pride, already trying to manipulate Bruce's view of him.

Bruce Wayne nodded and assessed Harry, before offering out his hand for a handshake. Harry hesitated before shaking the hand, noticing the callous skin on his knuckles. "Pleased to meet you Harry. Sorry to hear about your parents," he said sincerely. Harry looked at Vernon, who was shaking his head at Harry, reminding him not to talk, so he resorted to nodding.

Bruce sat at the seat opposite Vernon while Richard looked between Dudley and Harry, deciding to sit opposite Harry. "Let's order and start our business talk, shall we?" Bruce said to the agreement of everyone.

Vernon stuck his hand out grandly and clicked his fingers loudly, attracting the attention of their server who walked over. Bruce was the first to order, "Steak, well done, with a diet coke please."

Dick was next, "Burger and chips, diet coke please."

Vernon leisurely conversed with Petunia and Dudley before ordering. "Two large mixed grills, one salad. One of your finest beers, a glass of your best wine, and one orange juice."

The server nodded and looked at Harry. "And for you?" he asked.

Harry was reluctant, he knew his Uncle would punish him for ordering anything expensive but would also punish him for looking suspicious and ordering cheaply. "Burger and chips," he settled on, "with a glass of water please."

The server nodded, wrote down their order before taking their leave. Bruce and Vernon began their arduous conversation about work, while Petunia began to talk to Dudley to keep him from interrupting.

Harry and Dick both sat in silence, before Dick asked Harry where he was from.

"Surrey, in England," Harry whispered quietly, trying to be unheard by Vernon, an act that did not go unnoticed by Bruce and Dick.

Dick nodded. "And you came to Gotham for this." He gestured to the conversation between Vernon and Bruce.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "We're here for a week and then we go back home."

Dick was about to reply, when a loud scream sounded accompanied by most of the restaurant running out. Bruce held his hand up to stop Vernon talking as they looked at the building's entrance.

Standing there was a man with green hair, bleach-white skin, and a purple suit. The man was waving around a knife in his left hand and holding a gun in his other hand, a maniacal grin on his face. Next to him was a slender woman, her hair in pigtails dyed red and black, wearing a matching red and black leather outfit. In her hands was a large mallet that she was swinging round with ease despite its great size.

"Who are they," Vernon asked Bruce, only to look and see that Bruce and Dick had both vanished. "We should leave," Vernon decided. The four of them quickly rose and attempted to leave only for the green haired man to stop them, aiming his gun at them.

The man cackled insanely at the sight of them. "Somebody call the media, there's a beached-whale in here," he yelled.

Vernon was instantly offended and advanced on the man. "Listen here, I am a respectable business man, unlike you," he shouted only to silenced as a knife was thrown through the air and embedded itself into Vernon's leg, much to the man and woman's amusement.

"Now, I'm in the mood for a game," the green haired man said, as he walked over to Vernon and ripped the knife from Vernon's leg, causing him to give out an agonising scream. The man continued to talk, not deterred by the screams or fear in the air. "I want one of you," he waved his hand in the general vicinity of the Dursleys and Harry, "to die." He grinned, showing yellowing teeth. "But I don't want to pick. You get to decide instead."

Harry's heart sunk, he knew they'd pick him in heartbeat and his worries were confirmed when his Uncle shouted, "The boy. Kill the boy." He pointed at Harry.

The man sauntered over to Harry and looked him up and down, studying him. "Why kill him?" he asked.

His Aunt Petunia was the one to respond. "He's a freak, just like his parents were."

"Hmm," the man considered this answer, before shaking his head. "Wrong choice." The man raised his gun, aiming at Vernon's head before firing. The bullet pierced Vernon's head, exiting the back of it sending a spray of blood at the floor behind him.

The room was filled by the Petunia's scream and the scent of urine as Dudley's body gave way to the fear. The man smirked at the reaction before looking at his accomplice. "Take care of her," he ordered, looking at Petunia.

The woman laughed, picking up her mallet and bringing it down with a sickening crunch as it impacted her skull. Petunia's body crumpled instantly and fell to the floor.

A new voice was heard behind them, this voice was deep and grizzly. "Joker," the voice yelled. "What have you done"?

The green-haired man, Joker, spun round excitedly. "Batman. I was wondering when you'd show up."

Batman stepped into view. He was wearing a dark grey costume with a black bat emblazoned on the chest. A cowl concealed the top half of his head, and gloves and boots covered his hands and feet. Behind was another boy, this one wearing a red chest cover and green boots and gloves.

"Enough talk," Batman declared. "Robin, get them."

Batman leapt over the podium separating him and Joker, dropping pellets which released smoke as he soared through the air. Using the distraction, Harry and Dudley both hid under tables, but both kept watching the scene unfold.

The Joker sprang through the air with his knife, which was swiftly deflected by Batman's reflexes as he blocked the attack with his arm. Batman grabbed Joker's arm and held it, pushing down on it before throwing Joker to the floor.

Batman waited until Joker was getting back up, before charging delivering a flying knee to the man's head, which he did not get back up from.

Harry cheered silently as the Joker fell and turned to look at Robin fighting the woman. The woman was swinging her mallet wildly, but Robin was faster as he ducked and weaved to avoid it.

"You want do this the hard way, Harley"? Robin pulled out a metal stick from his sleeves which he connected and extended in his grasp. He attacked, swinging it at the woman's legs, tripping her up. Next, he threw what looked like bird-shaped boomerangs which pinned the woman to floor where she could not escape.

Dudley and Harry both sat in silence until police cars approached and took Joker and Harley Quinn away. Bruce appeared in between the tables that Harry and Dudley were under. "You boys can come out now."

Dudley and Harry both scurried out from their hiding places, where Dudley immediately began to cry at the sight of his parents' corpses. Bruce placed a hand on Dudley's shoulder. "I'm sorry about what has happened," he said truthfully. "Do you two have any family you could live with?"

Dudley gave a great sniff but nodded, thinking of his Aunt Marge. Harry also thought of his Aunt Marge and shook his head.

Bruce comforted Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder.  _First his parents die, now this._  "Well then Harry, I guess I'll just adopt you then."

* * *

 

**Review.**


	3. Batman and Robin

Bruce drove down his expansive driveway, Harry ogling the sprawling manor as they approached, Dick sat beside him with his arms crossed. Stepping out of Bruce's car, Harry hesitated and followed Bruce as opened the large front door and entered. "Alfred!" Bruce yelled when the three of them stood inside the front hall.

Harry marvelled at the sight of the front hall, craning his head to take it all in. He was certain that the Dursley's could have fit their entire house into the room, with room still to spare, a thought Harry quickly rejected as he thought of the Dursley family. Black walls bordered the room, with statues and paintings dotting the backwalls, a grandfather clock stood near the front door. Doors were at both walls next to the front door, with a marble staircase that split at the middle at the furthest wall.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" a voice said from the top of the staircase. A thin man with a balding head and a pencil moustache stepped down the stairs. "How did your meeting go?" The man looked at Harry as he walked towards the group.

Bruce shook his head. "I'll tell you later." He indicated Harry. "This is Harry, Harry this is my butler, Alfred. Alfred, I've decided to …" Bruce took a deep breath. "I've decided to adopt Harry."

If Alfred was surprised, the man hid it well. Instead, he simply nodded. "Very well, Sir. Would you like me to show Master Harry to his room?"

Bruce smiled thankfully. Whereas Alfred had concealed his shock at the adoption revelation, Dick did not. He was spluttering away, only quieting himself at Bruce's glare.

Alfred led Harry up the staircase and to an extended corridor. The two walked in silence until Alfred stopped at a room. Opening the door, Harry looked in and took the surroundings in. The walls were a deep blue, with a white queen-sized in the middle of the far wall. "This will be your room, Master Harry," Alfred informed politely.

Harry paused as he tried to figure out what to say. "Thank you, Alfred," Harry settled on.

Alfred smiled, before taking his leave, leaving Harry alone in his new room. Harry sat on his bed for a few minutes, eventually stepping out of his room and into the corridor, where he wandered down until he heard voices belonging to Bruce and Dick.

"You want to adopt him?" Dick asked incredulously. Harry knew he was the 'him' in question and he pressed his ear against the door to eavesdrop, painfully aware that a week ago he was in the same situation with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. "You've known him for less than a day."

Harry heard Bruce sigh through the door. "The kid needs a good life, Dick," Bruce said, his voice gentle. "We both saw what he was like, he looked at his Uncle before he even thought about speaking, and we both saw the way he kept looking at his Uncle, like the kid was waiting for him to snap."

"But why adopt him, why not just find an orphanage?" Dick replied.

"How have you been since I adopted you?" Bruce questioned. "I don't mean your body, I mean your mind."

"I guess," Dick paused and sighed. "I guess it got good. And I guess it needs to get good for him as well."

"Glad you understand," Bruce said, and the two fell into a comfortable silence.

"Does this mean you're going to tell him"? Dick asked after a minute, and Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  _Tell me what_ , he thought to himself.

Bruce was quiet for a few more moments. "I don't know," he admitted, his tone one of regret. "What if he blames us for being too slow?"

Dick's reply was too soft to hear and Harry strained to listen. It was Bruce that Harry was eventually able to hear. "Enough of this talk, go see if Harry is ok, and try to be his friend."

A year passed, and become friends they did. Harry relished when Bruce and Dick where in the manor, and did not question them when they suddenly left, having been told they would explain when he was older.

But eventually, Harry grew tired of it, when Alfred, Bruce, Dick, and Harry where in the middle of dinner, Bruce received a phone call and rushed away with Dick in pursuit. Sadly, Harry turned to Alfred. "Alfred," Harry asked," do you know where they go when they leave"?

Alfred shook his head. "Where, and why, they leave changes every time," Alfred explained. "I'm sure they'll tell you one day."

"I wish they didn't go," Harry replied sadly. "Or I wish I could go with them."

Alfred looked wistfully at the door his wards had run out of before speaking softly. "As do I," he muttered, more to himself than to Harry. He back, to where Harry was previously sat, and blinked in puzzlement at the now empty seat. This was Harry's first use of, what he would later be told was called, accidental magic.

Harry reappeared under the Wayne Manor, confused at what had happened. One second he had been thinking about how he wanted to be with Bruce and Dick, the next second he was in an expansive underground cave. The walls were made of stone, an expensive looking car was near the cave's exit, and an oversized computer was near Harry.

Harry, however, saw none of this, instead looking at Bruce and Dick in uncertainty. Bruce was in a Batman costume, the cowl down leaving his face uncovered, and Dick was in his brightly coloured Robin uniform, the domino mask in his hand.

Harry couldn't hold his gasp of surprise in, and the two whirled round to face him. The stunned silence was palpable. "Harry," Bruce said carefully, "how did you get in here?"

Harry ignored the question, looking between the two people he thought he knew well. "You're Batman," he yelled at Bruce. "And you're Robin," he shouted at Dick, who was looking in puzzlement between Harry and Bruce.

"How did you get in here?" Bruce repeated.

"I don't know," Harry yelled, unable to keep the mixture of excitement and confusion out of his answer. "One second I was in the dinner room, next I was here. It was just like magic."

Bruce rubbed the back of his head. "We'll explain this," he gestured to the suits, "when we get back. I promise. You can take the elevator back up to the main room." He pointed to an elevator before him and Dick put on their masks, got in the car, and drove speedily away.

Harry walked to the elevator and called it, entered, and selected the ground floor option. Stepping out of it when the doors opened, Harry was stunned to see it was the grandfather clock in the front hall that had disguised the elevator.

"Alfred!" Harry shouted.

Alfred soon approached from the dining room. "There you are Master Harry. Where did you go"?

Bobbing with excitement, Harry began to ramble. "I was in the dining room, with you, and then I was under the house. And Bruce and Dick were there, but they're actually Batman and Robin," he said in one breath.

Alfred nodded, rather calm about the situation. "I supposed you would find out eventually. But how did you get down there in the first place?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to be with them, and then I was."

"I suppose Master Bruce will consider it when he returns."

The two sat in silence for what seemed like and age, until the grandfather clock opened, and out stepped Bruce and Dick. Dick stood, soundless, as Bruce walked over to Harry. "Harry," Bruce said, his tone cautious, "what did you see down there?"

"You're Batman. Dick is Robin," Harry replied.

Bruce closed his eyes and began to breath heavily to calm himself. "You understand you can't tell anybody of what you saw."

"I want to help you," Harry said quickly. "Can I help?"

Bruce shook his head. "You have no training, no costume, no skills."

Harry looked annoyed. "I can teleport," he said incredulously. "It's how I got down there." He pointed to the clock to prove his point.

"But you don't know how to use it," Bruce countered, "and you can't defend yourself." Seeing Harry was about to interject, Bruce continued speaking, "So, if you're serious about this, your training starts tomorrow."

The next morning soon approached, and Harry stood outside of Bruce's bedroom door, knocked loudly, and waited for a response. Bruce opened the door, his eyes showing his tiredness. "Harry, it's early."

"But my training," Harry said.

"Fine," Bruce replied. "Go get Dick and take the clock elevator to the Batcave."

Harry grinned and rushed to Dick's room and hammered on the door. "Open up!" he ordered. "Bruce wants us in the Batcave for training."

Dick opened the door, annoyed, but nodded. The two walked to the elevator and Dick pressed the ten on the clock, then the four, and finally the eight. The clock gave a soft ding, and the elevator began to rise. "You excited about the training?" Dick asked. "You know it's going to be hard, right?"

Harry eagerly nodded. "I know, I still want to do it."

The boys stepped into the elevator, and Dick pushed the button that took them to the Batcave.

Stepping out of the elevator, Harry was surprised to see that Bruce, donned in his Batman costume, was already stood in the middle of a circle. "Good to see you," Batman spoke, Harry noticing his voice was deeper than Bruce's natural tone. "We'll be teaching you hand-to-hand combat today. Both of you, step into the training ring." Dick and Harry both made their way into the ring, and stood at opposite ends. "Harry, try and hit Dick. Dick, try to defend yourself," Bruce instructed.

Dick raised his hands defensively. "You ready," he questioned.

Harry ignored the question, and rushed forwards, readying his fist as he ran. Dick raised his hands, grabbing Harry's outstretched arm, and Harry saw the ground rush towards him as his legs were swept from under him.

Harry supressed the pain from impacting the floor and forced himself back to his feet. "Get back up," Bruce commanded. "Try again." Harry readied his fists again, this time knowing that Dick could easily deflect him.

Surging forwards, Harry attempted a kick. His foot was caught with ease and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back.

Bruce sighed. He knew Harry had potential and eventually he would be able to assist everyone.

* * *

**Give me feedback.**


	4. The Letter

It had been over two years since Harry had discovered Bruce and Dicks' secret identities and began his training.

Harry and Dick were both in the training circle again, like they did three times a week, Dick dressed in his Robin outfit and Harry in his training outfit, which consisted of a sun coloured yellow top and fire red trousers.

The two circled each other, both of their hands raised offensively. Robin was the first to strike, a fist aimed at Harry's chest. The fist was stopped with Harry's arm, before he delivered a backspin kick to Robin's chest.

Robin went to the floor but used the momentum to roll back into a crouching position, where he attacked, a low kick to Harry's chest.

Harry caught the outstretched leg and pulled, sending Robin to the floor on his back.

Robin laughed from the floor before standing up and leaving the circle. "You've got the hang of this," he complimented.

Harry grinned as he also exited the circle. "Thanks," he replied. "Guess you and Bruce are pretty good teachers."

Robin's grin faltered slightly. "Did Bruce tell you the news yet?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "What news?"

"I'm leaving Gotham."

Harry was stunned into silence. "Why?" he eventually asked.

"Gotham's in good hands with you and Bruce. So, I'm going to Jump City. I can help them and make a name for myself. I leave tomorrow."

Harry felt tears sting his eyes, as the feelings of abandonment set in. Dick was the only friend he had, and now he was leaving him, just like the Dursleys had done many times.

Harry barely registered he was running until he was outside Bruce's door, pounding as loud as he could. The door opened and Bruce stood there. "I'm guessing Dick told you the news then."

"I don't want him to leave," Harry sobbed. "Make him stay."

Bruce sighed, sat on his bed, before Harry joined him. "So, you want to ignore what Dick wants, to make him do what you want him to do?"

Harry crossed his arms angrily. "No!" he complained. "I want him to want to stay."

"He doesn't want to stay," Bruce explained. "And you can't make somebody do something because it's what you want." Harry began to cry and curled into the foetal position on Bruce's bed. Bruce looked at Harry and smiled sadly. "I know," Bruce said, patting Harry on the back. "I feel the same way."

A year passed and Harry settled into normalcy, training with Bruce. Bruce had decided that Harry was too young to become a sidekick, and so Bruce returned to fighting crime solo while harry was trained more.

The normalcy was shattered in June of 1991, with a simple letter. Alfred entered the Batcave, while Bruce and Harry were training, a parchment in his hand. "Apologies for the interruption," Alfred said. "But Master Harry has a letter."

Harry took the letter, slightly confused and Alfred and Bruce waited for Harry to open it. Harry scanned the envelope.

The envelope was addressed to him, and read Harry Wayne nee Potter. Wayne Manor, Gotham City.

Harry opened the letter and began reading it aloud. "Dear Mr Wayne. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall."

Harry looked at Bruce and Alfred in disbelief. "Is this a joke?" he asked.

Bruce shrugged his shoulders and took the letter from Harry's hands. But it was Alfred's reply that shocked. "No Master Harry. Hogwarts is very much real."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Alfred. "What do you mean?"

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he explained, "Hogwarts is a school in Britain for those with Magic."

"How do you know all this Alfred," Bruce asked.

"My parents met there," he said simply.

Harry was confused. "Does that mean you're a Wizard as well?"

Alfred shook his head sadly. "No, I am what is known, in the Wizarding World, as a Squib. Somebody born to magical parents who has no magic of their own."

"You never mentioned any of this," Bruce said firmly.

Shrugging, Alfred replied, "By the time I was eleven I knew I had no magic. My parents sent me to the finest Muggle schools they could find to compensate. When I was eighteen I joined the army, and my parents died while I was deployed. They were my only connection to the magical world. With them gone I left for America and lived a normal life, or as normal as can be when you're the caretaker for a man dressed as a bat." Alfred's eyes were glazed in remembrance.

"So, this is real?" Bruce indicated the letter.

"I would say so," Alfred replied, taking the letter out of Bruce's grasp. "My parents were quite saddened when I did not get this," he muttered, more to himself than the others. He turned it around to look at the other side. "This is what you'll need to buy before you start. You can get it from Diagon Alley in London," he said as he handed the shopping list to Harry.

Bruce nodded, in thought. "Alfred, pen a reply with Harry's response," he instructed, as Harry shouted he wanted to go. "Harry, give me the list, we will all go shopping for these tomorrow."

* * *

**Short chapter but not much can be done with a letter. Review/feedback anyway.**


	5. Diagon Alley

**Review. Comment about which House Harry should go to.**

* * *

 

Harry woke early the next morning, the sunlight streaming through his bedroom curtains. Although he was awake, he kept his eyes firmly shut. "It was a dream," he told himself. "I dreamed that letter told me I was magic. When I open my eyes, Bruce will be knocking on my door for training."

A loud knocking at the door snapped Harry from his musings. Harry sighed and got out of his bed.

"Master Harry," Alfred's voice said, muffled slightly from behind the door. "Are you ready for shopping?"

"Shopping?" Harry asked, excitement building at the potential realism of the situation.

"Yes, shopping at Diagon Alley. Master Bruce has brought a person who knows how to get us there."

"Thanks Alfred," Harry shouted. "I'll be there soon." Harry got dressed at a breakneck pace, before sprinting into the main room, where Bruce, Alfred, and woman stood waiting.

The woman was tall and thin, and appeared to be in her early twenties at the oldest. She was dressed in, what Harry could only describe as, a female magicians outfit with fishnet stockings, a tight white top, and a magician hat on her hat. "Harry, I presume," she said as Harry neared.

"Yes," Harry replied, somewhat hesitant of the newcomer.

Bruce took the lead. "Harry, this is the closest thing to a magical advisor I could find. Meet Zatanna, she's also magic."

"Heard you only found out about all this yesterday," Zatanna said to Harry.

Harry nodded. "So, you're magic as well? Did you go to Hogwarts?" Harry hadn't realised how excited he was about talking to someone like him.

Zatanna laughed. "No, Hogwarts is for British people. In America, we have Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo."

"So, did you to one of them?" Harry asked. His eyes narrowed in confusion before he questioned, "Why aren't I going to one of them?"

"I was actually home-schooled by my father. And you're going to Hogwarts since you would've been enrolled there since you were born in Britain."

Bruce put his hands on Harry shoulders, ending the conversation. "Sorry to bring this to a halt, but we do have things to be doing."

Zatanna nodded. "Everybody link hands," she ordered, and everybody complied. Bruce kept on hand on Harry's shoulder and touched Alfred's hand with his other. Zatanna placed her hand on Alfred, before she intoned, "Ekat su ot nogiad yella."

Harry's confusion was quickly replaced by nausea when it felt as though he was being pulled through his own navel. The confusion returned when he saw he was no longer in Wayne manor's main hall, but was outside a tiny, grimy pub named the Leaky Cauldron. "Here we are," Zatanna said, rather cheerfully.

The four entered the pub and Harry looked around. The pub was dimly lit and a layer of dirt stained most tables. Few patrons were scattered around the pub, and the group went unnoticed by them as they walked to the bald barman.

Alfred stood at the bar and waited patiently for the barman to acknowledge them. "We'd like to get through to Diagon Alley," Alfred told the man when he looked. "We have one Muggle with us." He indicated Bruce.

The barman pulled out his wand, something that Harry would have to get used to, and pointed it at Bruce. A soft blue glow came from the wand and went to Bruce. "That should let him in," the barman said, showing his yellowing teeth as he talked. "Want me to open the way?"

The barman's eyes flicked from Bruce, to Alfred, to Zatanna (where Harry noticed his gaze lingered unnecessarily for a few seconds) and finally to Harry. "Is this … are you … you are … Harry Potter," he yelled, his stare fixed on Harry's scar.

The room suddenly went eerily silent, before the patrons of the bar rushed towards Harry shoving their hands towards him and yelling causing him to cower slightly.

"Enough," Bruce commanded, and everybody stopped. "I do not know why you are doing this, and I do not care. But you are scaring him, and you will stop." He glared at the patrons, who meekly returned to their seats but did not stop whispering.

One man stepped forwards from the crowd. He was dressed in a deep purple robe and had a light purple turban wrapped around his head. "V-V-Very nicely h-handled," the man complimented Bruce.

"Thank you," Bruce replied, his voice still firm. "Any reason you're not reacting the same as them?"

The man laughed weakly. "I w-will be seeing a-a lot of P-P-Potter," the man replied stuttered, "since I-I am a professor at H-Hogwarts. Professor Q-Quirrell at your s-service."

Harry brushed past Bruce, his excitement overpowering his nerves. "What do you teach?"

"D-Defence Against the D-Dark Arts," Professor Quirrell replied. "Not th-that you need it." He chuckled feebly. "Pi-picking up your e-equipment?" Harry nodded. "I'll open the way."

Professor Quirrell led the four to a weeded courtyard, where he pulled out his wand and tapped a brick on the wall, before he bid his farewells and retreated to the pub.

Harry stared at the brick that Professor Quirrell had tapped. The brick was wriggling, as though it was struggling to escape, before a small hole appeared in its centre. The hole enlarged until it formed an archway that led to a cobbled street that twisted its way out of sight.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Alfred announced grandly. "Now, our first stop will be the bank."

Alfred walked down the street and the rest followed. Harry marvelled at the sights, wishing he could just stop and stare at everything: the shops that sold all manner of items, the robed people trying to do their shopping, the variety of hooting owls down the street.

Several young children were stood against a shop. "The newest broom model." Harry heard one of them say.

Harry paused outside of the shop with Bruce and Alfred, and read the card under the broom labelled Nimbus 2000. The card told how the broom could reach top speeds of 80 miles per hour and how it was available for 340 Galleons.

"What's a Galleon," Harry asked Alfred.

"Wizarding money," he responded. "About five dollars to a Galleon, I believe."

"So that's …" Harry stopped to work out the conversion rate. "1700 dollars," he said incredulously. He turned to Bruce. "You know, I'll need transport to help with your  _job._ "

Bruce hid his smirk. "I'll think about it," he replied neutrally.

Alfred tapped both of them on the shoulders. "I must insist we do what we intended, which is to buy Master Harry's school essentials."

Harry pouted but followed Alfred to a tall white building which proudly stood above the other shops. Next a set of bronze doors, stood a creature. The creature was dressed in iron armour, with a gold and scarlet outfit over the top. The creature bowed deeply as the group passed, and Harry had to stop himself from staring.

As soon as they were at another set of doors, this one silver, Harry turned to Alfred. "Alfred, what was-"

"A goblin," Alfred responded. "Gringotts is run by them."

They went through the silver doors, and Harry looked around the vast marble hall they now stood in. Goblins lined the walls at desks, doing a variety of tasks: measuring coins, weighing gems, and signing paperwork.

"Excuse me," Alfred said to a goblin at the front counter. "We've come to see if Master Wayne has any vaults."

The goblin nodded, and gestured for Harry to step closer. The goblin indicated a quill on the table. "Draw blood with the quill," he instructed, his voice guttural.

Harry hesitated, but did so when Alfred smiled reassuringly. The quill began to write on parchment, which Harry read along with as it wrote.

_Harry Wayne nee Potter_

_Father: James Potter_

_Mother: Lily Potter nee Evans._

_Vault number: 687_

The goblin looked at Harry and then back to the parchment. "Very well," he said slowly. "I will have someone take you to your vault. Here is your key." Harry's eyes widened in amazement as the parchment hovered slightly in the air, before morphing, its paper texture becoming gold and its shape changing to a key. "Griphook, take these people to Vault 687!"

Zatanna looked at the approaching goblin. "You know, if you don't need me, I'm going to get some ice-cream. Find me when you're done." With that she left.

The goblin, Griphook, approached. He was short, about a foot under Harry's height, and had greying hair. Griphook silently led the group through a set of doors, taking them to a rail cart. As soon as they were all seated the cart took off, speeding through the through the track on its own accord.

The cart lurched to a halt, and Harry saw the small door with 687 emblazoned on its front. Harry unlocked the door with his key and gasped at what was inside. Mountains of gold coins, stacks of silver and piles of bronze. Harry eagerly collected as much of the coins as he could, cramming them into his pockets, bag, and anywhere that they would go.

Alfred waited until Harry had a satisfactory amount of money in his possession. "Now that that's done, let's get started with the supplies. The closest shop we need is for your uniform, so that will be our first stop." Alfred looked at the shopping list.

The three people, and Griphook, re-entered the rail cart and sped back to the top of Gringotts and left the building. Alfred pointed to a nearby shop,  _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions,_ which they entered _._

Alfred and Bruce waited by the door, next to another man and woman, while Harry walked to a short woman dressed in all mauve. "First year at Hogwarts, dear?" the woman asked as Harry approached. "Got another first year being fitted up right now."

In the back of the room, a girl with frizzy brown hair was stood on a footstool, while a second worker pinned up her robes.

Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to the girl, and slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it.

"Hello," the girl next to Harry said, her gaze fixed forwards as she was being pinned, "I'm Hermione Granger. Are you also going into your first year?"

"I am," Harry responded, happy to be talking to another magical person his own age. "I'm Harry Wayne."

"This is so exciting, isn't it? This whole magic thing. I didn't believe it until we got an owl, and then a professor turned up to our house and made my teacup dance." Her sentences where breathless as she smiled. "What house do you think you'll be in?"

Taken aback by the girl's long-winded sentence, Harry paused. "Houses?" he eventually asked.

"Are you Muggle-Born as well?" she asked enthusiastically. "I am. Muggle-Born I mean. Have you not read Hogwarts: A History?" Harry numbly shook his head. "Well then," her voice turned into that of a lecturer, "the four houses are: Gryffindor who favour bravery and chivalry, Hufflepuff who like hard work and friendship, Ravenclaw appreciates intelligence and those who want to be more knowledge, and Slytherin who are ambitious and cunning."

"I don't know," Harry admitted.

"Personally, I hope for either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, although Hufflepuff wouldn't be too bad. As long as it's not Slytherin. They tend to not be fond of Muggle-Borns."

The two continued to talk as Hermione's parents turned to Bruce. "It's nice to see her getting along with people," her father said to Bruce. "I'm Daniel, Hermione's father. This is Emma, her mother." He indicated the petite woman next to him, who had Hermione's frizzy hair.

"I'm Bruce. That's Harry over there." He pointed. The adults started to converse.

Harry and Hermiones' conversation was prematurely ended when the woman fitting Hermione said she was done. Hermione turned and looked at Harry and was stunned. "You're Harry Potter," she squealed. "I've read all about you."

"It's Harry Wayne now," Harry corrected her. "And you've read about me?"

She nodded eagerly. "In  _The Dark Lords: A Timeline._ You destroyed the Dark Lord.

Madam Malkin pulled the pins out of the robes. "All done, dear," she said in an attempt at a neutral tone, although her eyes repeatedly flickered to the scar on Harry's forehead.

The two children stepped down and walked to their families. Hermione indicated Harry. "Mum, Dad, this is Harry Wayne. He's starting his first year as well."

"Harry … Wayne," Hermione's father said slowly, before he turned to Bruce. "Which means you're Bruce Wayne, correct."

Bruce rubbed the back of his head, hating to be recognised. "Correct," he disclosed.

Daniel grinned and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you Mr Wayne."

Bruce returned the smile and took the offered hand. "We're going to get the books next, care to join us?"

Hermione answered. "We've already bought the books. But I'd like to look at the bookstore again."

Hermione's parents nodded and the group walked to the next shop  _Flourish and Blotts._ The bookstore shocked Harry, with the books being stacked as high as the ceiling. Alfred looked at the required book list. "I will buy the books," he told Harry, "you may enjoy your company and look around."

Harry smiled at Alfred, and left with Hermione to a corner of the store. Hermione indicated books seemingly at random and explained them to Harry. "This one is about Hogwarts. This one is about Magic in other cultures. This one is about you."

Harry stopped, and looked at the large volume. "Me?"

Hermione nodded. "It talks about your parents, Lily and James Potter, how they died, and how you defeated Voldemort and then how you vanished from the Wizarding World."

Harry was dumbfounded. "My parents are dead"? His eyes pricked with tears.

"You didn't know? I'm sorry, I thought you'd have known."

Harry shook his head and walked away to where Alfred was paying for the schoolbooks. "Are we done," Harry asked.

"One more stop, your wand," Alfred replied.

Harry waited until all the books were bought and placed in a small trunk. Eventually, he, Alfred and Bruce bid their farewells to the Grangers and went to the final store.

Ollivanders was a narrow store, and looked to be almost falling apart. The faded gold letters on the door read  _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._

Harry could feel the magical aura as soon as he entered the store, as though the building itself was buzzing with mystical energies.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice said from the shadows. A tall, gangly man stepped forwards, his pale grey eyes only matched by his grey hair.

"Hello," harry replied awkwardly. "I'm here for a wand."

"Yes," the man said. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon Mister Potter." He stared at Harry's eyes and Harry fought the urge to break eye-contact. "You have your mother's eyes. I remember her wand, you know? Ten and a quarter inches, swishy and made of willow. Useful for charm work." His eyes flicked to Harry's hair. "Your father preferred a mahogany wand, eleven inches and pliable. Used mainly for transfiguration."

Ollivander stepped forwards and stood inches from Harry and peered at the scar. "I sold the wand that did that to you. Thirteen inches, phoenix feather core. Very powerful. And dangerous in the wrong hands." He shook his head sadly. "Enough of this. Let's get your wand found." He held out his hand, and a tape measurer flew from across the store and into his hand. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed," Harry said awkwardly.

Ollivander grabbed Harry's right arm and measured, from finger to wrist, from shoulder to finger, from second knuckle to elbow. As he measured, he spoke softly, "Every wand has a core: dragon heartstring, unicorn hair or phoenix feather. No wand is the same as another, the size, wood, and length all play apart in if they will choose the Wizard." Harry tried not to flinch as the tape measurer wrapped around his forehead. "That will do," Ollivander said, and the tape measurer fell to the floor.

A wand was pushed into Harry's hand, and immediately taken away. The wands came quickly, just to be snatched away as fast. The pile of discarded wands grew, as did Ollivanders glee. "Maybe, this one," Ollivander said. "Holly and phoenix feather."

Harry took the offered wand, and suddenly felt the warmness from the wand spread into him. Giving it a wave, red and golden sparks flew from the tip and circled before dissipating.

"Very interesting," Ollivander muttered softly.

"Interesting?" Harry asked. "What's interesting?"

"The phoenix that gave you that wand, gave another a wand. The wand that did that to you." He ran his bony finger along Harry's scar. "That wand will do great things for you, Mister Potter."

Harry smiled, awkwardly, and the group left to find Zatanna, who had bought ice-cream for them all. "All done?" she asked.

Bruce nodded. The group ate their ice-cream and talked, except from Harry who ate in silence. His mind was filled with questions: about the Dark Lord, his parents, about magic.

Minutes past until all the ice-creams were gone. "Ready to go back?" Zatanna questioned and everybody linked hands again. "Ekat su kcab ot eynaw ronam."

The world spun again, and by the time Harry regained his bearings he was back at Wayne Manor.

* * *

**Review. Comment about which House Harry should go to.**


	6. The Hogwarts Express

**Comment about what house Harry should be in. So far one option has more votes than all the others combined.**

* * *

 

Harry spent the remaining weeks of the summer holidays reading his textbooks. Not by choice, although he would have happily read them anyway, but because Bruce had added the books to Harry's training regime as well as the physical training.

It was night-time on the last day of August and Harry and Bruce were doing the daily magical training.

Currently, Harry was sat opposite Bruce, who was holding a textbook,  _The Standard Book of Spells,_  and quizzing Harry about its contents. "What is the spell for making something levitate?" Bruce asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "Wingardium Leviosa," he answered confidently.

Bruce smiled. "And the wand movement needed?"

"Swish and flick."

"What does Incendio do"?

"It's the fire-making charm."

"What spell is also known as 'The Thief's Friend'?"

"Unlocking charm, Alohomora."

"Last question, what is the mending charm?"

"Reparo."

Bruce closed the book and grinned. "Good job, Harry."

Harry returned the grin. "Thanks, I think I've got the hang of this stuff."

"I agree," Bruce replied. "I think if you do well this year, you might be ready to help me out."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean be your sidekick?"

"Only if you do well at Hogwarts."

Harry hugged Bruce tightly, and didn't let go for a few seconds. "I leave tomorrow," Harry said nervously.

"I know," Bruce said sadly. "I'll miss you."

"How am I going to get to the platform?" Harry asked.

Bruce smiled. "All sorted. I've had Zatanna turn the fireplace in the dining room into a Floo Powder Fireplace," he explained.

"What's that?" Harry questioned.

"Alfred's idea. You throw some Floo Powder into the fireplace, say which other Floo Powder Fireplace you want to go to, and then it takes you there."

"Magic is weird. But cool," Harry stated.

Bruce laughed, nodding. "I know. Now get some sleep, we'll need to be up early tomorrow."

Harry went to bed, and after an hour of excited thinking eventually settled into a light sleep. Harry woke early the next morning, three o'clock according to his clock, and was now too nervous to return to sleep.

He got dressed in a pair of black trousers and a crimson coloured top, deciding he would get changed into his robes on the train to Hogwarts. He pulled his trunk into the dining room, and sat and read  _Magical Theory_ , wanting to be as prepared as possible for when he started Hogwarts.

At around four o'clock, Alfred entered the dining room, nodded his head to acknowledge Harry, and wordlessly began to cook an English breakfast. As everything sizzled, Alfred called from the kitchen, "Are you ready for Hogwarts?"

Closing the book, Harry walked to the kitchen. "I'm nervous," he admitted.

Alfred laughed softly. "No need to be nervous, everybody is in the same situation as you. Being away from home for the first time. Just try your best and make the most of it," Alfred advised.

Harry returned to the dining room, and Bruce arrived just as Alfred was plating up breakfast for everybody. "Nervous Harry?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah," he replied, eating his breakfast.

"I thought so. You're sweating more than usual and you're eating faster than you normally do."

Harry ignored him. "What time are we leaving?" he asked.

"The train departs promptly at eleven," Alfred answered, "so I recommend we leave at five-thirty, to account for the time difference."

The three finished their breakfasts and Harry double checked, and then triple checked, he had all his equipment in his trunk. Eventually, it came to be five-thirty and the three stood by the fireplace.

Alfred picked up a small pinch of green powder that was stored in a bag next to the fireplace. "What you want to do, is throw the powder, and speak clearly," Alfred instructed. "Like so. King's Cross," he enunciated as he threw the powder at the bottom of the fireplace, and Harry ran towards him as emerald flames engulfed Alfred, and then he was gone.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Only one way to find out," Bruce responded. "You go next."

Harry picked up a small pinch of the powder, hurled it at the ground, and yelled, "King's Cross." Harry felt only a small warm sensation as the green fire grew, and when the temperature returned to normal he was stood in a small room.

Exiting the room, Harry was slightly surprised that he was now at a train station, likely to be King's Cross he reasoned, where Alfred stood casually leaning against a nearby wall. "Glad you could do it," Alfred said.

Harry grinned and Bruce soon joined them, his face lightly coated in soot. Bruce looked at the platforms. "What platform do we need," he asked.

"Nine and Three-Quarters," Alfred answered, much to Bruce's confusion.

"Platform Nine… And Three-Quarters?" he repeated incredulously.

"Correct. To gain entry to it, one must simply go through the wall between platforms nine and ten."

The three walked towards the needed platform, and Harry hesitantly placed his hand on the wall separating platform nine and ten. Rather than his hand hitting the wall as Harry expected, the hand simply passed through the wall, leaving an odd tingling sensation. "Wow," Harry whispered.

Looking at the clock, which read 10:40, Bruce looked sadly at Harry. "I guess this is it for a year," he muttered.

Harry's eyes welled with tears. "I guess so."

Alfred placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I believe that Master Harry may leave the school on holidays, if he so wishes."

Nodding eagerly, Harry told him he'd try to come back every holiday, unless something comes up.

"Very good," Alfred said, "but the train leaves soon, so I suggest you find a seat."

Harry grabbed his trunk and faced the wall. Taking a breath, Harry sprinted at the wall, ignoring Bruce's words of encouragement as the wall came closer. Harry closed his eyes as the wall neared, and when he opened them again, he was stood facing a scarlet steam engine on a platform swarmed with parents and students. A pack of owls flew overhead and a group of cats darted between peoples' feet. A sign above read  _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock._

The first few carriages that Harry passed were already crowded with students, some leaning out of the windows to talk to their families, and others jokingly fighting over seats.

Harry pulled his trunk down the platform, looking in the windows of the train for an empty carriage. He passed a chubby, round-faced boy who was frantically searching his pockets, before he turned to the old woman with him, saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

Continuing through the crowd, Harry spotted an empty compartment near the rear of the train. He tried to lift his trunk through the door, but the heavy trunk barely lifted more than an inch before Harry dropped it.

"Want a hand?" Harry looked up and saw a freckled boy with bright red hair.

"Sure," Harry replied gratefully.

The red-head turned to the side and yelled, "Oy, Fred, get here and help!"

Another red hair boy appeared, identical to the first, and with their assistance Harry lifted his trunk onto the train.

"Thank you for your help," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair from out of his eyes.

"Is that…?" one of the twins said suddenly, pointing at the lightning scar.

"It is," the other one said.

"So, he's him?"

"He is him. Aren't you?" the twin said to Harry.

"Who," Harry asked, hoping he hadn't been recognised.

"Harry Potter," both twins said in unison.

"Oh, him," replied Harry. "No, I'm not."

"You're not him?"

"I'm Harry Wayne."

The twins' conversation ended prematurely when their mother's voice trailed through the train's open door. "Fred, George, are you in there?"

With a final confused glance at Harry, the two left the train to return to their family. Harry quickly left the area and headed into a nearby empty carriage. Pulling his trunk, he tried lifting it to the overhead luggage rack but found it still to be too heavy.

An idea sprung to mind, and Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the trunk. With a swish, and then a flick, he said, "Wingardium Leviosa." Expecting the trunk to levitate gracefully, he was surprised when he it remained immobile on the floor. Shrugging, he pushed the trunk under his seat and sat.

Within seconds, the train began to move, and houses began to flash past the window in a blur of colours. Harry felt a degree of nerves building, having no idea of what he was getting himself into.

The compartment door reopened and Harry was greeted by a familiar bush of frizzy brown hair. "Hermione," he greeted cordially.

"Harry," she said, before pausing hesitantly. "I'd like to apologise for how I acted in Diagon Alley. It was inconsiderate of me to-"

Harry held up his hand, ending her apology. "No need to be sorry, Hermione. It wasn't unreasonable to assume somebody knew about themselves."

"Still, I apologise," she said.

Harry decided to change the subject before she could continue her unnecessary apology. "Are you excited for Hogwarts?"

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I've read all the books numerous times," she gushed. "But I'm excited to actually learn how to do the spells."

"I tried to do Wingardium Leviosa earlier, but it didn't work," Harry admitted.

Snapping into teaching mode, Hermione instructed, "Show me."

Harry pulled his trunk from under his seat, re-aimed his wand, swished and flicked, and said clearly, "Wingarium Leviosa."

"You're saying it wrong," Hermione said gently. "It's Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa, you have to make the 'gar' long, and emphasise the 'o'.

Harry felt his cheeks redden but nodded. "Wingardium Leviosa," he spoke. The trunk began to elevate at a steady rate before slotting into the overhead rack. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

The door slid open again, and Harry thought he was looking at one of the red-haired twins, until he realised this boy was younger. "Mind if I sit here," the boy asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other before shrugging, and the boy took a seat opposite Harry.

The boy glanced at Harry, and then quickly looked out of the window in an attempt to seem like he never tried to look at Harry's scar.

"Hey, Ron." The twins were back, both stood in the compartment doorway. "Listen, we're going to the middle of the train, Lee has a tarantula.

"Got it," Ron mumbled, and Harry noticed how his forehead and begun to sweat more.

"Harry," the other twin said. "Did we introduce ourselves? I'm Fred, this is George," he indicated his twin," and this is Ron. See you around." Both twins left, shutting the door behind them.

Ron stared at Harry before blurting, "Are you really Harry Potter?"

Harry sighed. "I'm Harry Wayne," he replied.

"You've got the scar, Fred and George said so. You sure you're not him?"

Hermione tried to catch Ron's eyes to silence him, but Harry replied, "I used to be Potter. Then I was adopted and became Harry Wayne."

"So, you are Harry Potter," Ron stated.

"No," Harry responded, his voice firm, "I'm Harry  _Wayne._ "

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "Do you remember it. When You-Know-Who … you know?"

"Murdered my family?" Harry asked, and Ron nervously nodded. "No. But if you're so fascinated by murder, I can tell you about when my Aunt and Uncle were killed."

Ron began to shake his head, but Harry continued. If Ron was going to ask inappropriate question, Harry would make him regret it. "It was a Friday, and we were at a restaurant in America when a crazy guy broke in. He shot my Uncle right in between his eyes," Harry placed a finger on the Ron's forehead for emphasis, "the bullet when straight through him, and his blood just spurted out." Harry paused, relishing in the greenness of Ron's face and the details nauseated him. "Anyway, onto my Aunt. The crazy guy had an accomplice with him, and she had a giant mallet. She hit my Aunt over the head with it and her body just cracked and fell to the floor."

Ron's face was now green and he seemed to be swaying in his seat. "Enough," he said.

Harry narrowed his glare. "Are you done asking me about the murder of my family?"

Ron nodded, spluttering out an apology. "You don't get it," he eventually said once his face had returned to its natural colour. "You're like a hero to the Wizarding World." Harry shook his head. "Seriously, you are. You ended a war. My brothers and sister grew up with stories about you, our mum loves you, you killed the guy that murdered my mum's brothers."

"Ron," Harry said firmly, silencing him. "I am not a hero. I do not remember killing any Dark Lord, and I don't want to. I just want a normal school life, where I do not get asked about my murdered family. Understood?"

Ron nodded feebly and the carriage turned to a tense silence. While they sat, the train had left London and was now speeding past the country side.

At around half past twelve, the door slid open again and a smiling, old woman asked, "Anything off the trolley?"

Harry leapt to his feet to look at the magical world's snacks, while Ron's ears turned pink and he mumbled about bringing his own sandwiches, while Hermione spoke about her parents making her bring sugar free snacks. Harry meanwhile, had grabbed a handful of all the choices and paid the woman a Galleon and told her to keep the change.

Ron stared with jealousy as Harry brought his bounty in. "Want some?" Harry asked.

Ron adamantly shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Have one," Harry instructed, wanting to put the argument behind them and be civil, tossing a chocolate frog to Ron and passing one to Hermione.

"Are these really frogs?" Hermione asked, as the frog wriggled in its box.

Ron laughed. "No, but see what cards you get. I'm missing Agrippa and Ptolemy."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and unwrapped the frogs and picked up their cards. "I got Hobart," Hermione said, looking at her card.

Ron shook his head. "Common card."

Harry looked at his, which had an old man wearing half-moon glasses, with long silver hair and a beard. Under the picture was the name  _Albus Dumbledore_. "I got Dumbledore," Harry announced. Harry flipped his card over and read the information. "Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times. Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon blood, and his work on Alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel."

The three ate and conversed, as the train continued, until the chubby boy that Harry had passed on the platform entered the compartment. "Sorry," he said nervously, "but have any of you seen a toad?"

When they shook their heads, the boy began to sob, "I've lost him. He keeps getting away from me."

Harry replied, "If he keeps getting away from you, that means he keeps coming back to you. He'll turn up." He indicated the seat next to Ron and the boy sat.

"I'm Neville, by the way," the boy said.

"Don't worry about your toad," Ron said. "It could be worse, you could have a lazy animal that never moves." He pulled a fat grey rat from his pocket. "This is Scabbers."

Harry decided to change the conversation, to keep Neville's mind off pets. "What house does everyone want?"

Hermione was quick to reply. "Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. I like the thought of being in the house of the brave or the smart."

Neville was next. "My parents were in Gryffindor. My gran wants me to be there as well."

Ron groaned. "You think that's bad? All my family is Gryffindor. Imagine if we got Slytherin."

"That's the one You-Know-Who was in?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron said sadly, slumping in his seat. Harry deduced that he was worried about the sorting.

"What do your family do?" Harry questioned.

"Mum stays at home, Dad works for the Ministry of Magic, Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, Bill's a curse-breaker for Gringotts," Ron's comment started a different topic in his mind. "Did any of you hear about Gringotts?" Neville nodded, but Hermione and Harry shook their heads. "It was robbed," Ron explained.

"What did they take," Hermione asked.

"Nothing, that's why it's weird. They didn't take money from any of the vaults, they just left without taking anything. Everyone says it must have been a really strong and dark wizard."

The group began to theorise about what could have happened, when the door opened and a pale blond boy sauntered in, flanked closely two thickset boys, one on each of his sides. "Is it true, what they're all saying?" the blond boy asked. "That Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it you?" he said, looking pointedly at Harry.

"You must be mistaken, I'm Harry Wayne," Harry corrected.

The boy fixed his gaze on the scar that was unhidden on Harry's forehead. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said grandly, and Harry was reminded of his Uncle when he tried to increase his importance.

Neville rolled his eyes, and Ron sniggered. "Think that's funny, do you?" Malfoy asked. "No need to ask who you are. My father has told me all about you, red-hair, freckles, hand-me-down robes. Obviously a Weasley." He turned back to Harry. "You'll discover that some wizards are better than others. I can help you there." He held his hand out for Harry to shake.

"I can make my own decisions," Harry replied casually.

Malfoy withdrew his hand, his cheeks now flushed pink. "I'd be careful, Potter," he said calmly, stressing the incorrect last name. "Unless you want to join your parents, I suggest you stop conversing with the blood-traitors, mudbloods, and Squibs."

Malfoy suddenly found himself with four wands pointed at him. "Leave," Harry ordered.

"Are you going to fight," Malfoy scoffed.

"Unless you want to be on the receiving end of my Incendio, I suggest you go."

Malfoy ignored him, and advanced along with the thugs that flanked him.

The group reacted quickly. Ron sent a spell towards the boy on the left, and bats flew out of his nose and sped around him. Neville yelled, "Expelliarmus," and a red light erupted from his wand sent the boy on the right backwards.

Hermione aimed her wand at Malfoy, and said "Petrificus Totalus." Malfoys arms snapped to his sides and his legs stuck together as he toppled backwards, stopping when he hit the door.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry cast, pulling the stiff Malfoy into the air and out of the room.

The two remaining friends of Malfoy, left soon followed by a freed Malfoy who ran after them.

"We're going to be in trouble," Hermione panicked. "And then we'll be expelled."

"It'll be fine," said Ron. "Malfoy started it all anyway." The others voiced their agreement.

A voice sounded throughout the train, "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken separately."

The four quickly got changed, throwing on the robes over their shirts.

The train slowed to a halt, and all the students tried to push past each other to reach a cold, dark station. Harry shivered as a cold breeze blew.

Then a lamp came into view, bobbing up and down as it approached. As the light appeared, Harry saw it was held a giant of a man, with a bushy brown beard. "Firs-years over 'ere," the man shouted with a booming voice.

All the first years, around forty by Harry's guess, followed the man down a slippery and narrow trail. The path was dark, and the large man blocked out the light he was holding. "Yeh'll see Hogwarts in a sec," the man yelled as they rounded a corner, "right 'ere."

The path opened suddenly into an edge of a great lake, illuminated by the moonlight. Perched upon a mountain on the other side of the lake, was a grand castle, it's windows reflecting the stars in the sky, shadows cast by the many towers the castle had.

"No more'n four to a boat," the man said, indicating a fleet of small wooden boats by the shore.

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione entered a boat and waited for the other boats to be filled.

"Everyone in," the man shouted. "Right then, FORWARD."

The boats moved in unison, smoothly skimming the water, advancing to the castle that everybody was enthralled by.

Harry felt something slimy next to him, and looked to see a toad. He prodded Neville and pointed. "Trevor," he said gratefully, scooping up the amphibian.

The boats stopped on the shoreline, and everybody clambered out into the shadow of the majestic castle. They followed the giant man up a flight of stone steps and crowded the huge, oak front door.

The man raised his fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

 _This is it._ Harry thought.  _This is Hogwarts._

 

* * *

 

**Review.**


	7. Sorting Ceremony

The door swung open immediately. A tall, dark grey-haired witch in forest green robes stood. A stern look was etched on her face and she possessed an aura of authority.

"The new firs-years, Professor McGonagall," said the man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." The woman pulled the door wide open, allowing the new students to see inside for the first time.

The entrance hall was big, about the same as Wayne Manor's entrance room. The walls were made of stone and lit with flaming torches that hung from wall sconces, the ceiling seemed to be transparent as Harry could see the night sky, and an impressive marble staircase faced them which led to the upper floors.

Harry could hear the chatter of people in the next room, likely to be the other students, as Professor McGonagall led them across the room and into small chamber room.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, her voice carrying through the room with no effort. "The start-of-term feast will begin soon. But before that you must be sorted into your houses. Your house will be like your family for your time at Hogwarts. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in your house's common room."

She stopped, looking around to make sure everyone was paying attention. "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin." Harry noticed the way her mouth twitched and the mention of Slytherin. "Each house has its own history and has produced many great and well-known witches and wizards. While you are here, you will earn house points by doing good, and lose them for breaking rules. The house with the most points will win the house cup. The sorting ceremony will commence in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. Do try to make yourselves presentable."

Harry thought the house system was absurd. Five years ago, he had just been adopted by Bruce Wayne, and five years before that, he was a scared child living with the Dursleys. His personality had changed so much with each iteration of himself, and now he was being sorted at age eleven to decided his 'family' for the next seven years.

McGonagall left, and the room began to talk between themselves. Harry turned to Ron and asked, "How do they sort us?"

Ron shrugged nervously. "Not sure, Fred and George told me we had to fight a troll, but I'm pretty sure they were joking."

Hermione scoffed loudly. "A troll? Please, that would be a death sentence for a first-year student. And if you'd read Hogwarts: A History, you would know we're sorted by the Sorting Hat."

"The Sorting Hat?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, but her reply was drowned out by the shrieks and screams of the other students. Harry looked, and saw about twenty ghosts who had phased through the wall and into the room. Their skins were pearly-white and mostly transparent, and none of them seemed too interested in the first-year students. Harry looked at them, there was a man wearing a neck ruff and tights, a jolly fat man who seemed to be a monk, a man covered in blood, and a woman who seemed uninterested by everything. A group of spectral nuns passed followed by a ghostly knight.

The monk was talking to the ghost in the ruff. "Forgive and forget, we ought to give Peeves another chance."

The ruff ghost shook his head, which seemed to move far more than it should. "My dear Friar, we have given him all the chances he deserves - I say what are you all doing in here?" The ghost said as he noticed the first-years.

Nobody answered, and the silence filled the air as the ghosts stared.

"New students," the monk shouted in realisation. "About to be sorted presumably."

A few students nodded, still silent.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, my old house." The monk smiled warmly.

"Move along," Professor McGonagall's voice sounded, showing her return. The ghosts obeyed flying through the opposite wall. Once the room was full of only the living McGonagall commanded, "Now, form a line and follow me."

Heavy footed with nerves, Harry stood behind Hermione and in front of Ron, and the line walked out of the chamber, back across the entrance hall and into the Great Hall.

Harry had thought he had been seasoned the unusual, being raised by a crime fighting man in a batsuit and now around magic, but he was wrong.

The room was lit by thousands of candles which were floating in the air above four long tables, where the rest of the Hogwart's students were sat. The tables were laid with golden plates, with cutlery laid out, and goblets next to the plates.

At the far end of the hall were the Hogwart's staff, with Harry recognising Professor Quirrell and Hagrid. Dumbledore sat in the middle, looking just like his chocolate frog card, smiling and grandfatherly.

The line stopped at the teacher's table, facing the other students. To stop anybody looking and recognising him, Harry stared at the starry ceiling above him.

Hermione whispered, "It's not actually a view of outside, it's enchanted to look like it."

Harry looked back down, as McGonagall placed a stool on the floor in front of the new students. On top of the stool, she placed an old pointed wizard's hat, which was tattered and dirtied, to the point of resembling one of Alfred's rag washcloths.

 _How does that decide where we go_? Harry questioned himself.

The room was silent, and then the hat twitched. The rip near the bottom of the hat tore open like a mouth, and began to sing.

The whole room was full of applause when the hat finished its song, and it bowed to each table. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, a long parchment in her hand. "When I read your name, put on the hat, and sit and the stool to be sorted," she instructed. "Abbott, Hannah."

The blonde pigtailed girl stumbled out the line and to the hat. The hat sat on her head, covering her eyes, for a few seconds, before loudly yelling, "Hufflepuff!"

The table to the right erupted into applause as Hannah approached, and the monk ghost waved merrily.

Harry zoned out, choosing to focus when a name he recognised was called. When Hermione left for the hat, she pulled it eagerly over her head, and sat in silence for nearly a minute before the hat announced, "Gryffindor!"

Neville was called, and he fell clumsily to the floor on his way over. The hat was quiet for a few minutes before he joined Hermione in Gryffindor.

Malfoy strutted proudly when he was called, and the hat barely skimmed his head before he was put in Slytherin.

"Wayne, Harry," shouted McGonagall.

Harry stepped forwards, and the room broke into hush whispers.

"Is that Potter?"

"She said Wayne."

"I can see the scar."

Harry dropped the hat over his eyes, making sure he could not see those who were looking at him.

"Interesting," said a small voice in his ears. "Very difficult, Mr Wayne."

"You're in my head?" Harry asked.

"Indeed, I am."

"You can see everything?"

"If you are referring to Bruce Wayne's secret, yes I see. It is of no concern of mine. I am more concerned with your mind."

Harry relaxed. "What do you see in my head then?" he asked.

The hat laughed. "I see much," it answered. "The courage and bravery of a Gryffindor, the ambition and cunning of Slytherin, the hard-working attitude of Hufflepuff, and the intelligence and perception of a Ravenclaw."

"Where do you think I'll fit best?" Harry queried.

"I think that is obvious."

Harry agreed as the hat yelled it's choice, "Best be … " **(Comment for the house you think Harry should be in)**


	8. Ravenclaw!

"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat announced, briefly filling the grand hall with a stunned silence, which was quickly replaced by a thunderous applause from the Ravenclaw table, a polite applause from the Hufflepuffs, and a few claps from Gryffindor.

Harry's eyes briefly looked at Hermione and Neville, both of which were amongst the clapping Gryffindors and Ron clapped loudly in the line as he waited to be sorted.

Harry knew the Sorting Hat's decision was the correct one. While he admired Bruce's ambition, bravery and hardworking attitude, the only reason Batman was on the same level as the Superpowered heroes, such as Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash, was because of Batman's intelligence, perception and creativity, all traits which Harry shared and valued.

He took off the Sorting Hat and placed it back of its seat and walked over to the Ravenclaw table. Slotting himself next to an Indian girl, named Padma if Harry's recollection was correct, and a pale boy with black swooping hair, called Michael Corner.

Harry turned to look at the staff table, which was easier to see now that his back was not to it. At the far left was Hagrid, who's impressive size had him hanging over his chair, who had clapped at Harry's sorting, albeit with surprise. In the middle of the table, was a golden chair occupied by Dumbledore. His long silver beard shone like the animated stars on the ceiling, and on his face was a polite and grandfatherly smile. Harry saw Professor Quirrell who smiled weakly when him and Harry made eye-contact.

Ron was next to be sorted, and his face had turned back to the pale green that Harry seen on the train, and sweat clung to Ron's forehead. The hat briefly touched Ron's head, before it yelled, "Gryffindor!" Harry clapped and shrugged when Ron looked apologetically at him.

Harry glanced at his empty plate as the last person, Blaise Zabini, was sorted into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and carried the Sorting Hat away, as Dumbledore stood up.

Dumbledore's smile was wide, and his arms were opened wide. "Welcome," he said, his voice carrying through the room with little effort. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Before the banquet begins, I have some important words. Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak." He sat back down as everybody who was not a first year clapped and cheered, while the first years looked uncomfortably at each other in confusion.

"Is he senile?" Harry said aloud, aimed to nobody.

"Senile!" The offended voice came from an older student who sat opposite Harry, her long curly blonde hair bounced as she spoke. "Albus Dumbledore is not senile. Dumbledore is one of the greatest wizards of our time. He's just … eccentric. In future, you should watch what you say about Hogwart's staff, especially like prefects like myself."

"You're the Ravenclaw prefect"?

The girl nodded. "Penelope Clearwater. I'm the fifth-year female prefect for Ravenclaw."

"I'll keep you in mind if I ever need help with anything," Harry replied truthfully. It was one of Bruce's lessons, make allies, especially ones with more influence and knowledge than you had.

Penelope smiled. "Feel free. Now, eat up," she said.

Harry looked back at the previously empty plates, which were now stacked with food. Sausages and bacon, Yorkshire pudding, various potato options, beef, lamb, pork, and other choices were lined upon the table.

Harry scooped up all of what he wanted and started to eat it. It was nice, but admittedly not as good as Alfred's homecooked meals.

A ghost flew by and looked longingly at the food, her beautiful face carrying an expression of sadness. She smiled feebly as she saw Harry look at her. Harry realised it was the ghost from earlier, that seemed apathetic towards all. "Muggle-born, I assume?" she asked sadly. "It's usually the Muggle-borns that stare."

"Raised by Muggles," Harry replied uncertainly. "But Half-blood by birth. I've never seen … someone like you."

The ghost laughed gloomily. "You mean a ghost." Harry nodded. "Ghosts are a sight you will have to get used to, you'll see a few of them around the wizarding world."

Harry had many questions about ghosts running through his head, his inquisitive side coming out as he asked the most important questions. "What are ghosts? Why are you here? Who are you?"

"I can see why you are a Ravenclaw. "Ghosts are the remainder of those that have passed on, who elected to stay on this realm rather than go on to the next plane. We may do this for many reasons; fear of death, unfinished business, to stay with loved ones. But, when we decide to stay, the decision is forever. Once a person becomes a ghost that stays, they can never leave. As for myself, my name has long been erased from history, but the students here refer to me as the Grey Lady. I believed I died around," she paused to think, "800 years ago. I must confess, after your 500th Deathday, you tend to lose count."

"800 years," Harry repeated in shock, trying to imagine simply existing for that long was unimaginable.

"Yes, but enough of talking to me. You are lucky enough to have the living to talk to and food to eat." With that the Grey Lady raised her hand politely and glided silently away.

Harry went back to his now cooled food, and returned to eating it. He ate in silence before he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked to see it was the Indian girl, offering her hand out to shake.

Harry shook the offered hand and the girl smiled. "Padma Patil," she introduced.

"Harry Wayne."

"We were talking about you earlier," Padma admitted indicating her and the two other first year girls next to her. "The Sorting Hat called you Harry Wayne but you fit the description of Harry  _Potter._  We want this settled completely. Are you Harry Potter." When Padma asked this, the majority of the students at the table turned to listen.

Harry sighed. "I used to be called Harry Potter. I know the stories you all say about me, that I killed Voldemort and ended a war. Truth is, I'm not that boy. My birth parents were killed, something I only found out today. Then my extended family took me in before they were killed. Then I was formally adopted, I changed my last name to Wayne to honour him. The name 'Potter' means nothing to me, I am not their child and as far as I'm concerned, they are not my parents. If that answer pleases you all, I am Harry Wayne." With all that said, Harry turned back to his food and ate in silence.

When the table had finished their meals, the main courses vanished instantly. A moment later the deserts appeared in their places, consisting of ice-cream, chocolate cakes, doughnuts, and everything else.

Harry helped himself to a slice of cake and a scoop of ice-cream and listened to everybody around chat amongst themselves about their upcoming lessons and their families. "I'm a pure-blood, not that that matters," said Padma, "and I think I'm looking forwards to Defence Against the Dark Arts the most, both of my parents used to be tutors for it in Bangladesh."

Michael was the next to talk. "Half-blood. I think I'll enjoy Potions the most."

"What about you Harry?" Penelope asked.

"Half-blood by birth. But raised by Muggles as long as I can remember. I've read all the books for our lessons, and I think I'm looking forwards to anything practical." One of the only reasons Harry was eager to learn magic was to help out Batman as his new sidekick.

Penelope laughed in agreement. "Exactly what I wanted to do in my first year here. But, you have to know the theory first, and even then, you'll only learn minor things."

Harry glanced at the staff table. "So those are the teachers? What do they all teach?"

Penelope pointed at Hagrid on the far left, who was drinking from an oversized goblet. "Hagrid the gamekeeper." Her finger moved to the next staff member. "Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff and the Herbology teacher. Professor Flitwick, our head of house and the Charms teacher. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor and the Transfiguration teacher. Dumbledore, you know about him already. That's Professor Quirrell, he used to teach Muggle Studies but this year he's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry stared at Quirrell, who was talking to another teacher with pale skin, greasy black hair, and a hooked nose.

Then the pain started. The greasy haired teacher looked past Quirrell and straight at Harry. The pain shot from the scar of Harry's forehead, a burning sensation, like hot pins had been pushed into his head.

Harry's hand rushed to his head.

"Are you ok"? Penelope asked concernedly.

The pain had gone as quickly as it started, and Harry withdrew his hand. "I'm fine." Harry stared back at the greasy haired professor, but he was no longer looking back. "Who's that next to Professor Quirrell?"

"Professor Snape. Head of Slytherin and the Potions Master. Watch out for him, rumour is he's after Quirrell's job and he knows a lot about Dark Arts."

Harry continued to watch the Potion Master for a while but he never looked at him again.

Eventually, desserts were finished with and disappeared, and Dumbledore rose to his feet again. The room fell silent with anticipation.

"Now that we are all watered and fed, I have the start-of-term notices to give you. The first years should be aware, the forest on the ground is forbidden to all students. Our caretaker, Mr Filch, wishes to remind you that no magic is to be used between classes in the corridors. For those now in their second year, or above, Quidditch trials will take place in the second week of this term, those interested should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must say that this year, the third-floor corridor is out of bounds to everybody who does not wish to die a painful death."

Harry looked at Penelope. "Is he serious," he asked.

"I think so," she replied, although her face was confused. "It's strange, usually he explains why things are banned, the Forbidden Forest is full of beasts, unsupervised magic could be dangerous. I wonder if he told any of the prefects." Her eyes dotted to the other prefects in the room, Harry noticing they all looked as perplexed as Penelope was.

Dumbledore spoke again, his voice ending the conversations that had started. "And now, bedtime."

Penelope stood up. "First year Ravenclaws, follow me," she instructed.

The few Ravenclaw first years, Harry noted there was only eight, all stood obediently and followed. They walked out of the hall, up a staircase, through doorways, and up another staircase which Harry was convinced moved.

Finally, they reached their destination. An oak door with a bronze eagle knocker hanging from it. Penelope waited until the first years were all stood by her. "What you should know about Ravenclaw is we value intelligence, creativity and originality. Because of that, we do not have passwords to remember, we have riddles to solve. To gain entry we must be asked by the eagle and answer correctly. If you do not solve it, either wait for somebody to help, or try again."

The eagle knocker seemed to wait until Penelope was finished talking, before it stretched to life, opening its beak and asking, "What can you put in a bag to make it lighter?"

"There is no one right answer," Penelope explained, "we just need an intelligent answer that makes sense."

Michael was the first to answer, "Helium." The Pure-bloods looked confused by this but the answer made sense to all those raised by Muggles.

"A hole," Harry tried, a hole in a bag would make everything fall out and be lighter.

"The Lumos charm," replied Padma, and all the wizard raised first years nodded in agreement.

"All good answers," the eagle responded. It cawed loudly and the door opened.

The Ravenclaw common room was a wide and round room with arched windows showing the school grounds below. Desks were dotted around the room, next to bookcases crammed of novels.

Near a staircase stood a tall marble statue of a woman, who smiled as the first years approached.

Penelope took the timetables that were hanging on a notice board and handed them out to the students before she ordered the girls up the staircase and to the left, while the boys went to the right.

Through the doors were their beds, large and inviting, with dark blue duvets and bronze coloured curtains. The trunks were already in their rooms, and the boys simply pulled on the nightclothes and climbed into their beds.

Within minutes, exhausted by the train, the food, and the nerves, all the boys were asleep. 


	9. First Classes

Harry woke to somebody gently nudging him awake. Groggily opening his eyes, he saw the long-haired boy, Michael Corner, standing over him. "Breakfast is soon," Michael stated. "Get ready and we'll walk to the Great Hall together."

Harry gave his thanks and pulled himself out of bed. As he dressed himself in his robes, he glanced at his other two roommates, Terry and Anthony, who were currently talking about getting their timetables.

Michael and Harry left the Ravenclaw dormitory and guessed their way to the Great Hall. Whispers began the moment people spotted him, hushed discussions about him started as he walked down the corridor.

Hogwarts was hard enough to navigate without the constant stares of strangers, distracting Harry from his walking. Staircases seemed to move of their own accord and whenever Harry walked by, people would stop in their tracks to gawk at him. Looking for landmarks to help guide him didn't help, the people in the portraits would stroll from their frames to others and the suits of armor would walk from one spot to another when nobody was watching.

The ghosts weren't too helpful either, being unintentionally scary when the suddenly glided through a wall that was being walked past, although Harry made a mental note to tell Bruce about the existence of ghosts.

Eventually, Michael and Harry found the Great Hall and sat at their table, both sat next to each other, Harry next to Padma and Michael next to Terry and Anthony, both of which had obviously found the way to the Great Hall. They helped themselves to breakfast, filling their plates with sausages, bacon, and eggs.

The whispers started again, too quiet for Harry to hear what was said, but just loud enough to know it was about him. From next to Harry, Michael sighed. "Are people going to stare at you all the time?" he asked, his tone annoyed.

"Probably," Harry replied shrugging. "I assume if you still stick with me you'll get used to it."

Michael rolled his eyes, and glared at anyone that glanced in Harry's direction.

Padma spoke from next to Harry. "Personally, I can't see why anybody cares so much about you," she admitted. "Last night my sister, Parvati, was talking to her Gryffindor roommates about you. That Hermione girl's apparently read all about you and memorised it all, surprised she wasn't in Ravenclaw with that attitude."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I've met Hermione. She means well."

Professor Flitwick walked as fast as his short legs would allow, handing out timetables to all the first-years as he passed.

Harry looked at his schedule for the day; Charms, Herbology, Potions, and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The conversation quickly turned to the day's lessons. Padma said, "Charms is first, Professor Flitwick teaches it as well."

"Potions as well," Michael replied, "my mother is a Potions tutor, so I've picked up a few things from her."

The three quickly finished their breakfasts and decided to try and get to Charms early, to avoid the crowds and in case they got lost. They headed to the Charms corridor and soon found their classroom and entered a few minutes early.

The classroom was a small room with three rows of desks that faced the middle of the room, which was where the teacher's tables stood on which was a single book. Professor Flitwick sat on a precariously stacked pile of books which was behind the table on an upholstered chair. The desks were illuminated by the morning sunlight that streamed in through the pair of windows behind the teacher's table.

Harry, Michael, and Padma found a desk and sat, Michael on one end, Harry in the middle, and Padma on the other end, and waited for the rest of the class to enter. Within a few minutes Anthony and Terry entered, talking and laughing, and sat at the table closest to Michael. Next to enter were the girls that Padma was sat next to after the Sorting Ceremony, who sat at the desk next to Padma, casually chatting and pulling Padma into their conversation. Finally, another student entered, a Chinese girl who debated between sitting with the girls or the boys, settling on the boys and she sat in silence next to Anthony and Terry.

Professor Flitwick looked around the room, doing a headcount. "This is everyone," he muttered to himself. "Silence for roll call," he ordered, standing up on the stack of books to be seen over. He quickly did the roll call and Harry learnt that Padma's two friends were Lisa and Mandy, and the Chinese girl was named Sue Li. When Professor Flitwick reached Harry's name, he almost let out an excited squeal, and Harry noticed the Professor paused before saying his last name.

"Let's get done to Charms," Professor Flitwick announced, clapping his hands with excitement. "I don't know what you've heard about it, some people may think Charms is 'easy' or 'soft'. Those people are wrong. Charms can be a difficult subject, but also the most rewarding. Charms is one of the few subjects that allows for creativity to be used, no rigidness like Transfiguration. Charms can also be used for combat, no matter what people may tell you. For example."

The Professor whipped out his wand, and the book on his desk whizzed into the air where it hovered. Flitwick waved his wand again and the floating book burst into flames. A final flurry of the wand and the book was shredded into pieces, the falling debris raining down on the space between Flitwick and his students. "Now, imagine that in a duel, fiery objects bombarding your foe." Flitwick paused while the students recovered from their awe.

Obviously, despite the Professor's small stature, he was not one to be trifled with. "Now who can tell me what spells I used?" Professor Flitwick asked.

The majority of hands in the room shot into the air. Flitwick pointed at Harry. "Wingardium Leviosa," Harry answered confidently.

"Very good, Mister Wayne. One point to Ravenclaw. Anyone else?" He pointed at Anthony.

"Incendio," he replied.

Flitwick nodded. "One point to Ravenclaw. And the last spell?"

"Diffindo," Padma yelled. Harry made a mental note to learn the cutting charm.

"Very good, one point." Flitwick looked around the room, casually waving his hand and the few burnt pieces of books soared in the air and repaired themselves, leaving an intact book that was free of any evidence of damage. "All of these charms, and more, will be taught to you, and by the end of the year you will know and be able to perform them all."

The rest of the lesson consisted of note taking, now that Professor Flitwick had successfully grabbed the classes' attention through his demonstration. The lesson was over within an hour, and Flitwick assigned them to read chapter one of The Standard Book of Spells for the next lesson.

The next class was Herbology, which was outside at the castle's greenhouses. Michael and Harry walked together, Padma electing to walk with Lisa and Mandy.

The two boys discussed the lesson and the homework. Harry told Michael about how he'd already read the book, while Michael responded that he'd only really cared Herbology and Potions.

The two entered the greenhouses and were slightly surprised that the Slytherins were also stood in the greenhouse.

The greenhouse had a strip of various plants down the centre of the room, as well as surrounding the walls. In between the plants on the left stood the Slytherins, with the Ravenclaws on the right. In the middle of the room stood a smiling, portly woman who had patches of dirt over her face and clothes.

"That everyone? All right, let's start. I'm Professor Sprout," the professor said. "In this room you will learn about Herbology, the study of magical plants."

Harry realised that Malfoy was glaring at him from across the room. Harry held his stare, refusing to acknowledge the anger.

Professor Sprout indicated two plants next to her. "You might think plants are safe, and sometimes you would be right." She plucked one of the plants, pulling a small purple ball from it. "This is a bouncing ball, relatively harmless." She threw the plant at the floor, where it bounced back into the air like a power ball. "Some are dangerous." She showed the plant next to her, a mass of tentacle like vines that lashed around in the soil it was planted in. "Devil's Snare," Professor Sprout explained. "One of the deadliest plants, capable of incapacitating and choking a Wizard within minutes. It's only weakness; sunlight."

Professor Sprout aimed her wand at the Devil's Snare. "Lumos Solem," she intoned, and a dazzling beam of light burst from the tip of her wand causing the Devil's Snare to shrivel and collapse.

The rest of the class consisted solely of Professor Sprout demonstrating the difference between the various plants that would be shown to the first-years, and the two spells they would need to know; Incendio and Lumos Solem.

Throughout the lesson, Malfoy maintained his scowl at Harry, only pausing to mutter to his friends or to reluctantly dirty his hands by moving plants.

The lesson ended, and Harry left for lunch, only to be blocked by Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and a Slytherin girl. "Potter!" Malfoy spat out. "I demand satisfaction from your assault on the train." Michael and Padma heard the commotion and made their way over to Harry.

"It's Wayne," Harry corrected. "And what assault?"

"Potter," he repeated with a sneer. "And I am referring to when you and your 'friends' assaulted me on the Hogwart's Express."

Harry ignored the repeated use of his incorrect last name. "Assault? The way I recall, you burst interrupted my conversation, implied I'd join my birth-parents if I carried on talking to my friends, and then advanced on us even after we told you we'd react accordingly."

Malfoy's cheeks became pink, but his stare hardened. "I demand satisfaction through a traditional paired Wizard's duel."

"If it will stop this nonsense, I agree," Harry replied.

"Pansy will be my second." He gestured sharply to the Slytherin girl.

Harry looked between Michael and Padma. Michael, who admitted that he was only interested in Herbology and Potions, and Padma, who was raised by Defence Against the Dark Arts tutors.

"Padma will be mine." Padma nodded eagerly.

"Tonight, at nine, in the Trophy Room." Malfoy left with a flourish.

Padma sighed as the three made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. "Harry, it's the first day, how have you already got yourself into this mess."

"The man who raised me taught me to deal with any problems," Harry replied. "And in my defence, Malfoy started it."

Michael laughed. "Do you know how a Wizard's duel works?"

"No idea," Harry admitted.

Padma began to explain, "In a paired Wizard's duel, we both duel at once. As the primaries, you and Malfoy will duel, while I'll simultaneously duel with Pansy."

The three entered the Great Hall and sat at the table, discussing the upcoming lessons and duel. Michael read the timetable. "Potions next, and then DADA. We can figure out how you're going to beat Malfoy after that."

Harry nodded gratefully. "Thank you, both of you."

The three ate their lunch, before heading to Potions. The castle's temperature decreased as they descended to the dungeons.

The Potion's classroom was a dimly lit room, the only source of light was the candles scattered around the room. Various potion ingredients were stacked in glass jars around the walls. The other students entered, including Hufflepuffs who the Ravenclaws shared their Potion's lessons with.

Professor Snape walked in after the students were seated, his cloak billowing as he entered. His eyes drifted from student to student, lingering on Harry for a few unnecessary moments.

Professor Snape started his class with roll call, pausing at Harry's name. "Mr 'Wayne'," he said softly. "Our newest celebrity." The class was silent as he spoke, Harry trying to work out why the teacher had such an antagonistic nature towards him. The man clearly had something against Harry, his dark eyes barely leaving Harry as he spoke. The man's voice was soft, barely more than a whisper as he addressed the class. "You are here to learn the art of potion making. There will be little wand-waving here, and so many of you will not believe this is truly magic. I do not expect you to understand the beauty of a simmering cauldron, its shimmering fumes. You will learn how to make potions to bewitch the mind, ensnare senses … I can teach you how to bottle love, create luck, and even stop death. Provided you aren't the fools I usually have to teach."

The room was silent. Harry and Padma glanced at each other, but Michael seemed to be enraptured by the speech.

"'Wayne'!" said Professor Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry thought, he remembered wormwood was mentioned in  _Magical Drafts and Potions._ "Draught of Living Death," he answered.

Professor Snape's lips curled in distaste. "Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

Harry thought again, it was in the same book as the previous answer. "Goat," Harry replied.

"One point from Ravenclaw for a partial answer," Snape retorted, much to the shock of everybody in the room. "As anyone with a full knowledge of potions would know, a bezoar is a hard stone from the stomach of goat that can save a person from most poisons."

The potions professor had now earned Harry's ire. The man clearly had a problem with Harry, but Harry refused to reply, instead returning the man's steely stare.

"Now, get into pairs and follow the instructions on the blackboard." Snape jabbed his hands towards the blackboard, and the instructions appeared. Harry and Michael, looked at each other and nodded, Padma choosing to partner with Sue Li.

The man glided across the floor, critiquing the students' attempts. Michael truly was a natural at potions, crushing the snake fangs to fine powder and weighing the nettles needed to the exact amount needed. Even Snape was relatively impressed, giving Ravenclaw a point for his work.

The lesson ended quickly with few partners having made the potion correctly, something Snape was eager to point out.

Harry walked out of the room in thought, trying to decipher why Snape was so against him. "Why do you think he doesn't like me?"

Michael shrugged. "We can figure that out after your duel tonight. He obviously doesn't like you much though."

Defence Against the Dark Arts class was next. The room had a strong garlic odour that seemed to emanate from Professor Quirrell.

Harry had hoped that the lesson would have practical elements that could be used for his upcoming duel, but instead the lesson consisted solely of listing different creatures, and explaining the distinctions between imps and pixies. Quirrell seemed to stutter often, and his eyes continuously drifted to Harry as he taught.

As Harry left the class, he happily realised that he wasn't even too far behind everybody else in his classes. A lot of others had come from Muggle families, and even the ones that didn't weren't ahead of him in everything.

As Harry, Michael and Padma entered the Ravenclaw common room, they immediately went to their textbooks. They had a duel to prepare for.

* * *

 

**Review**


	10. Duels and Doors

"Ok," Padma said, closing her textbook, "now that you've got me involved in this, let's get ready."

"Good idea," Harry replied, "and I thought you were the best choice compared to Michael. No offence." He said to Michael.

"None taken," Michael said back, not taking his eyes off his textbook which he was highlighting with his quill. "So what spells do you know?" he asked.

Harry thought of all the spells that could be useful in a duel. "Wingardium Leviosa, Incendio, Diffindo, Petrificus Totalus, and Expelliarmus. But I haven't used the last two spells."

Michael sighed. "Not many of those are traditional duelling spells."

Padma agreed. "Incendio and Diffindo are too dangerous to be used in a non-lethal duel."

Harry shared her feelings. Like Bruce, Harry had a strict no-killing rule.

Michael slid the book he was reading over, having underlined two spells.

"Flipendo, and Fumos," Harry read. "The Knockback Jinx and the Smokescreen spell."

"We don't have much time to practice," Padma said, "so we better get started."

Harry nodded, and scanned the book to learn how to cast the spell. He swirled his wand in a circle and yelled, "Fumos." His wand leaked a weak stream of grey smoke that lingered in the air. "Better than nothing," Harry muttered.

"There's always more spells," Michael consoled, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Try Flipendo."

Harry aimed his wand at the textbook. "Flipendo," he cast, and the book slid across the table as though struck by an invisible fist.

"Nicely done," Padma complimented. "Now let's try dodging." Before Harry could react, Padma had sent an Expelliarmus to Harry and his wand sailed above him into the air.

Harry honed his training from Bruce and waited for his wand to fall within reach. He swiped the wand from the air, pointed it at Padma, and countered with his own Expelliarmus. Her wand clattered to the floor, leaving a disarmed and shocked Padma. "Good reflexes," she eventually said, picking up her wand.

The three continued to practice the few select spells that were deemed suitable. At around half past six, Harry and Padma bid their farewells to Michael and headed to the Trophy Room. Harry insisted on getting there early so he could scope out the layout and get a 'tactical advantage'.

The room was large, with shelves adorned with cups and trophies. The walls were covered with various plates, shields and medals, some of which were protected by a layer of glass.

Harry thought what approach was best to take with the duel. He would start with a smokescreen spell, to provide some cover, then he would try a Petrificus Totalus. Finally, he would either end with an Expelliarmus or a Flipendo.

By seven o'clock, Malfoy and Pansy strolled in. "Potter," he acknowledged, "I thought you'd be too much of a coward to show up."

Harry narrowed his glare. "I'm here Malfoy. Now let's get this over with."

"Eager to lose?" Malfoy mocked, and Pansy giggled loudly. The two Slytherins made their way over to the far end of the room, and Harry and Padma walked to the opposite end. Padma had informed Harry of duelling etiquette, the two pairs would bow to either, before trying to disarm or incapacitate their opponent.

Malfoy and Pansy stared at Harry and Padma, and the four bowed to each other.

The duel had started.

"Fumos!" Harry shouted, and the area was filled with a thin layer of dark smoke.

Malfoy scanned the concealed area carefully before launching a volley of spells. "Locomotor Mortis," he yelled, sending a repeated ball of purple lights into the smoke.

The majority of spells whizzed by Harry but on struck him squarely in the chest. Harry's legs bound together, and he toppled face first to the floor.

From the floor, he could see Padma and Pansy duelling, the room full of coloured lights trying to hit the other person. A stray spell collided with the trophy case behind Harry, showering him with broken glass.

Malfoy was making his way over, walking towards Harry just as Harry hoped he would. Harry threw his momentum into his arms, rolling over onto his front and pointing his wand at Malfoy. "Petrificus Totalus," he cast, and Malfoys arms were forced to his side and his legs were involuntarily stuck together. "Wingardium Levioasa." Malfoy was lifted into the air where he scowled at Harry.

One final jab of his wand and a yell of "Flipendo," and Malfoy's petrified body was blasted out of the air and across the room.

Harry looked over to Padma, and saw she had already defeated Pansy. The two nodded to each other and walked out of the room, leaving the Slytherins to recover their pride.

As they walked the corridor, they saw Professor Snape patrolling the hallways. His back was to them and he was at the opposite end of the walkway. "Are we allowed to be here?" Harry whispered to Padma.

She nodded. "But, we'll get in trouble if he finds out about the duel," Padma realised.

Both she and Harry tried to silently run down the corridor away from Snape, but he heard the footsteps and walked in their direction.

To two decided to forgo their silence, instead breaking into a full sprint. The two saw Hermione, who was coming out of the library, her arms full of books.

Harry ran by Hermione, who's view was obscured by her pile of books, ran around a corner. Padma wasn't as lucky, instead colliding with Hermione, knocking them both to the ground.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Padma said quickly to Hermione, picking up her books as fast as she could.

"No problem," Hermione reassured. "What's with the hurry"?

Padma scrutinised Hermione for a moment, before remembering that Harry had spoken to her before. "Harry and I were in a duel with Malfoy and his friend," she disclosed. "And now, Professor Snape is looking for us. Please cover for us," Padma said, running away.

Hermione looked at the running girl, as she reorganised the books she had taken out from the library.

Professor Snape neared Hermione. "Miss Granger," he seethed, "have you seen anything suspicious here?"

Hermione knew she couldn't lie to a teacher, so she did the only thing that she could think of, tell the truth. "No Sir, I have not," she replied. And it was true, in her mind, students ran all the time in the corridors and Hermione hadn't personally seen the duel occur.

The professor maintained his stare for a few seconds. "Very well," he conceded. The man turned, and walked back the way he came.

Hermione stood to recover her nerve, before running after Harry and Padma. She found them outside a room door. "What were you two thinking?" she asked. "You got into a duel on your first day."

"Malfoy challenged us," Harry explained. "Is Snape gone"?

"Professor Snape is still in the area."

"We should hide," Harry said. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. Hearing footsteps approaching, he whipped out his wand and muttered "Alohomora," at the lock.

The door unlocked, and the three entered the room. Harry relocked the door pressed his ear against it to determine the location of the footsteps.

"Harry," Hermione whispered urgently.

"One minute," Harry whispered back, hearing the footsteps near.

"Harry," Padma repeated, just as urgently.

Harry waited until the footsteps had passed before turning. "What?" he asked. "Oh."

Facing him was a snarling, massive three-headed dog, a Cerberus. One of the heads gave a large roar and the beast started to advance. "Everyone out!" Harry ordered, reunlocking the door and ushering the girls out before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

The three ran down the corridor, stopping outside the library. "What was that?" Padma asked as she attempted to regain her breath.

"A Cerberus," Harry and Hermione answered in unison. "But why does Hogwarts have one?" Harry added.

"Did you not look under it?" Hermione asked. Harry and Padma looked at each other before shaking their heads. "It was a trapdoor," Hermione explained.

Harry contemplated for a minute. "We meet here tomorrow," he decided, and the girls nodded. "We're going to figure this out."

* * *

**Review**


	11. Hagrid's Hut

"So, let me get this straight," Michael said for the third time since last night, as he, Harry and Padma waited outside of their first Transfiguration lesson. "You and Padma went you duel, won, and then had to run from Professor Snape. But, there was a Cerberus in one of the classrooms."

"Correct," Harry replied as the classroom door opened.

Professor McGonagall sat at the front desk, and watched as everybody sat. Once everyone was seated she spoke, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts." Her eyes went from student to student, eyeing them with suspicion. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave, and they will not return. You have been warned."

With that, the Professor waved her hand over her desk, and to the astonishment of the class, it turned into a live pig. The pig gave a loud oink as Professor McGonagall transformed the desk back to its original state.

After the Professor gave the class a variety of notes to take, including the Transfiguration formula, they finally got started with the practical element.

A matchstick was placed in front of them, and they were tasked with transforming it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Harry had succeeded in turning the matchstick silver, Padma had turned hers to metal, and Michael's had not changed much to his chagrin.

The three departed for their next lesson, Charms, and the three were greeted by Professor Flitwick. They sat in their usual spots, and began to take notes on their next spell, Lumos, the Wand-Lighting Charm. By the end of the lesson, the room was full of light bursting from everybody's wands.

At lunch, the three sat together as they filled the plates. Speaking in soft whispers, Michael asked, "What's the plan for tonight?"

"We go to the library to brainstorm," Harry whispered back. "We need to find out why the school has the need for a Cerberus. Hermione's meeting us there, since she already knows about it as well."

Michael nodded thoughtfully. Padma interrupted though, "Defence Against the Dark Arts is next," she announced excitedly.

By the end of the class, every student agreed he was a joke. His room stank strongly of garlic, and Professor Quirrell wore a turban that he claimed was a reward for killing an Inferi, something Padma explained was akin to a zombie. The class itself was not as practical as anybody hoped, instead Professor Quirrell stuttered his way between the different types of ghosts.

The last class of the day was History of Magic, taught by Professor Binns, a ghost. Harry expected to learn about the founders of the school, or about various important figures, but instead Professor Binns droned on about the Goblin Wars while the majority of the class spoke to one another or passed notes.

When the lesson ended, Harry, Padma, and Michael forgo their evening meal to head straight to the library. "Get books on creatures," Harry instructed, and the two others nodded and went off.

Harry made his own way through the library, grabbing books that looked like they could be about creatures. Eventually, the three returned and found a table, dumping their hauls on it. They all grabbed books at random and skim read the articles on the Cerberus.

"Look." Michael pointed at his section. He turned the book around and Padma read it aloud.

"The three-headed dog, known commonly as the Cerberus, is a creature commonly found in Greece. It was often used as a guard dog in medieval ages. It has now been outlawed due to its violent tendencies. The soft melodies of music are often enough to force the beast into a deep slumber," she said.

Hermione walked to the table, joined by Neville, much to Harry's surprise. "Sorry we're late," she said flustered.

Harry raised his hand dismissively. "No problem, we got here early," he reassured. "Nice you can join us Neville," he added.

Neville immediately blushed a deep pink. "Last night I heard Hermione ranting about you and the dog, so I asked what she was talking about. She told me what happened, and I offered to help. It's better than listening to Ron talk to Dean and Seamus about flying lessons and Quidditch."

Harry shrugged. "If Hermione trusts you, then so do I." Hermione beamed, and Neville's face turned a bright red. When the two Gryffindors were seated Harry spoke in hushed tones again. "Now, we're trying to research the Cerberus. We've found out they used to be used as guard dogs, which means it is likely to guarding something. The only problem is, we don't know what."

The five students sat in contemplation for a few minutes. "You know, there was an attempted break in at Gringotts," Neville said hesitantly.

Hermione and Harry's eyes widened in realisation. "We talked about in the train here," Hermione said. "One minute." She ran to the librarian, a thin woman with parchment like skin called Madam Pince, and returned with a newspaper in her hand.

She slammed the paper down and Harry read it. "Gringotts Break-In Latest. Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day." Harry placed the paper back on the table, and allowed everybody to read the article for themselves. "So, we know the dog is guarding something. Somebody broke into Gringotts to steal something. The 'something' was moved the same day. Logic would say the 'something' that was moved from Gringotts was moved to Hogwarts to be protected here."

Everybody nodded in agreement. "We should keep meeting here, to discuss this," Hermione decided. The group nodded again.

"How's everybody finding Hogwarts?" Harry asked, now that they had found all they could about the Cerberus.

A collection of groans was heard. "Professor Quirrell is useless," Padma complained.

"I know!" Hermione said indignantly. "All he did was talk for a lesson, and then he got distracted when Seamus asked him about his turban."

"Better than Snape," Neville muttered darkly. "I swear he has it out for Gryffindors."

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected, "is just strict. I'm sure he knows what he's doing. The problem is Ronald, he yells at Professor Snape whenever he feels like it."

Michael shrugged. "Snape was fine towards the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He was a bit weird with Harry though."

Harry agreed, and thought back. Professor Snape had a problem with Gryffindors and Harry. All Harry wanted to do was to find out why.

The group knew their session was over and they all returned to their common Harry arrived, there was a letter waiting him for him, a large untidy scrawl reading his name. Harry opened it and looked at the writing. It read

_Dear Harry._

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come to my hut around three. I want to hear about your first week. Send an owl, or drop off a letter with your reply._

_Hagrid._

Harry wondered why the groundskeeper would want to talk to him, but accepted it and made a mental note to send his reply the next day. Harry showed the note to Michael and asked, "Want to come?" Michael shrugged, then nodded.

Friday came around, and Harry and Michael made their way to Hagrid's at quarter to three. They made their way across Hogwart's grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden hut that bordered the forbidden forest. A crossbow and workman's boots were outside the shack, and Harry was reminded of Batman's ally, the Green Arrow.

Harry knocked on the door, and a loud barking was heard from outside. "Back, Fang. Get back," Hagrid's voice said from behind the door. The door cracked open and Hagrid's large and hairy face appeared as he pulled the door open further.

He let the pair in, struggling to keep a hold of the collar of an enormous black dog. Harry and Michael exchanged a look, both having the same thought. Hagrid liked dogs, he might know about the Cerberus.

Harry looked around the one room cabin. Meat hung from the ceiling, a kettle was boiling on the open fireplace, and in the corner of the room was a giant bed with a patchwork quilt covering it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, releasing Fang who immediately leapt on Michael, licking his face. Like Hagrid, the dog was not as intimidating as he seemed.

"Thank you. This is Michael," Harry replied to Hagrid, who was pouring the kettle water into mugs and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

Hagrid glanced at Michael. "Ravenclaw?" Hagrid asked curiously. Michael nodded, and Hagrid turned back to Harry. "Surprised you were Ravenclaw," he admitted, "thought you'd be Gryffindor like yer parents."

Harry shrugged meekly. "If I raised by them maybe I would have been. But I wasn't, and there's no point thinking about it." Harry bit into the rock cake, and found it too solid to bite through, but he pretended to be enjoying it as Michael told Hagrid about Professor Snape.

"He seems to have a big problem with Harry," Michael explained. "He's overly demanding of Harry, but fine with the other Ravenclaws. And Neville, you know Neville Longbottom, said that he seems to also dislike Gryffindors."

Hagrid waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense, why would he have it out fer anyone?" Harry noticed that Hagrid had refused to look either of them in the eye when he spoke. "Anyway, who else yer met 'arry?"

Harry could tell that Hagrid had changed the conversation subject on purpose, but allowed it. "Michael and Padma from Ravenclaw. And then there's Neville and Hermione from Gryffindor. We all have weekly study sessions." Harry eyed Michael and silently urged him to play along.

"Oh yes," Michael said unconvincingly. "We trying to study magical beasts at the moment."

Hagrid didn't clock on to the ploy, instead leaning forward with excitement. "I love these beasts. Most are scared of 'em, but not me, I think they're misunderstood."

"Really?" asked Michael. "What beasts do you know of?"

"Most of 'em," Hagrid said proudly. "There's Dragons, I always wanted one of 'em. And there's Manticores and Acromantula. Whole bunch more of 'em, you'll learn about 'em in yer third year."

"So," Harry started, "do you know anything about Cerberuses."

"Course I know about 'em. I ruddy well got one."

"You own a Cerberus?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Aye. Bought 'im off a Greek chappie in The Leaky Cauldron."

"Where do you keep him?" Michael asked.

Harry nodded and added, "It can't be the forest, that would be too dangerous for students." Hagrid paused, as though realising he should not have said that, and remained silent. "You're not keeping him at Hogwarts, are you?" Hagrid's eyes widened in shock. "Say, in the third-floor classroom that's out of bounds to students."

"How do you know about that"? Hagrid asked loudly.

"We found him by accident," Harry explained. "We were hiding from Professor Snape, and we ended up in the Cerberus' room."

"Fluffy," Hagrid interjected. "His name is Fluffy. Who else knows about this?"

Harry and Michael looked at each other before Harry responded, "Me, Michael, Padma, Hermione, and Neville."

Hagrid sighed. "Can they be trusted?"

Harry nodded. "What is Fluffy guarding. We saw the trapdoor."

Hagrid shook his head vehemently. "Not my place to tell. Whatever is in there, is between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

Harry recognised the name from his chocolate frog card from the train ride, only a few days ago. "Flamel," Harry repeated. "Dumbledore's alchemy partner?"

Hagrid's eyes widened again. "I should not have said that."

* * *

 

**Review.**


	12. Flying and Fights

The next Monday came around, and Harry stared at the paper pinned on the Ravenclaw notice board with dread. The notice was informing the students that their flying lessons would begin on Friday.

Admittedly, Harry had been looking forward to learning to fly on a broom, but part of him was terrified that the he was going to make a fool of himself in front of everybody. "Do you know how to fly"? he asked Michael, who was stood next to him.

"No," Michael replied uncertainly. "I never really had the interest to try."

"What if we end up looking like idiots?"

Michael shrugged as Padma walked to them. "Worried about flying lessons?" she asked. "I'm sure you won't be the only ones who don't know how to fly."

"You know how to fly?" Michael questioned sceptically.

Padma raised her eyebrow at Michael. "Only the basics," she laughed, "but apparently that's still more than you."

Both Anthony and Terry jokingly bragged about their flying skills and even Sue Li talked about how she was part of her local under 11s Quidditch team.

When Tuesday arrived, the group went to the library to discuss Flamel. Harry sat with Michael and Padma, and waited for Neville and Hermione to arrive.

The Gryffindor duo came within a few minutes, both nervous and clutching books. They both placed their books on the table and Harry saw all the books where about flying. "Nervous," Harry asked.

Hermione's face dropped, and Neville nodded hesitantly. "I've tried to read about, but it's no use," she muttered. "I asked Ronald and Seamus, but they've only got stories about flying instead of advice."

Neville blushed a deep red and added, "Gran would never let me fly, she was too scared I'd crash."

Harry shrugged. "We'll probably figure it out when we start. Anyhow, the point of the lessons is to teach us, other people will be in our situation."

Hermione sighed but looked relieved. "True," she conceded. "Any news on Flamel?"

Michael leaned forwards and began talking. "We went to Hagrid's hut on Friday." He indicated himself and Harry. "Found out the Cerberus is his, and he basically confirmed that it's guarding something. And he said, that whatever is being protected is between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"That's Dumbledore's ex alchemy partner," Harry added.

Hermione looked in thought. "So that means that whatever is being protected is likely to be alchemy based."

"Exactly, so we need to figure out what it is," Harry confirmed.

The group quickly dissolved into theorising what was being protected, and worrying about flying, until they all left for their common rooms.

Eventually, it was 3:15 on Thursday, and the Ravenclaws made their ways to the Quidditch field. The area was a smooth and flat lawn, where the grass rippled in the breeze. The Hufflepuffs soon joined them, and the twenty students walked to the line of brooms, where the teacher stood.

The teacher, Madam Hooch, surveyed the group with her yellow hawk-like eyes, which poked out from under her short, grey hair. "What are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick, and hurry."

The first years glanced uncertainly at each other before standing over a broom. Harry looked down at his broom, it was old and worn with twigs sticking out at odd angles.

"Stand by the left of your broom, stick your right hand over your broom," instructed Madam Hooch from the centre of the class, "and say 'UP!'"

The class did as told, and a chorus of UPs filled the air.

Harry's broom soared into his outstretched hand instantly, while Padma's simply wobbled on the ground, and Michael's remained immobile on the floor. Within a few minutes, everybody was on their broom, although some had simply chosen to pick up their broom.

Madam Hooch then showed the class how to mount their brooms without slipping off at high speeds, and she walked the rows correcting their grips.

Harry mounted his broom, tightening his thighs around the handle and gripping the ends with his hands.

"When I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground," Madam Hooch announced. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then lean forward to descend. On my whistle, three, two, one." She blew her whistle loudly, and all twenty students kicked off hard.

Harry kicked the ground, and although he expected to fall instantly, he hovered in the air. He pulled the broom back and tilted it upwards and gently flew a few feet into the air. He waited for a few moments before tilting the broom back down and descending back to his starting place.

The class continued with the basics of flying, such as learning how to raise, hover, and land, as well as how to hold the broom correctly.

Harry returned to the Ravenclaw Tower, more exhausted that he thought he would be since he had only been sitting on a broom for an hour. When he, Michael, and Padma entered the common room, they found Penelope Clearwater, the prefect, waiting for them. "Harry," she said as the group approached, "Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."

Harry exchanged a panicked look with Michal and Padma, did Dumbledore know that they knew about the Cerberus? "Do you know what he wants?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Penelope shrugged. "Flitwick didn't say," she explained, "he just said the Headmaster wants to see you as soon as possible. His office is on the third floor, behind a Gargoyle." With her piece said, Penelope walked away leaving Michael and Padma looking at Harry.

"What do you think he wants?" Michael asked.

"Maybe it's nothing," Harry tried to reassure. "Maybe he likes checking on all the Muggle raised students?" Both Michael and Padma looked at him with their eyebrows raised dubiously. Harry sighed. "I know. Want to come with me?"

The two nodded, and the three of them started to walk to the Headmaster's office, all of them becoming more nervous as they neared. Harry spotted the Gargoyle and stood by it with hesitation. "I have a meeting with Dumbledore." The gargoyle remained immobile for a moment before stepping aside, revealing an ascending staircase. "You two stay here," Harry said to Michael and Padma, who nodded.

Harry began to climb the staircase until he found an oak double door. He paused, before knocking loudly.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's grandfatherly voice came from inside the room. Harry pushed the door open and observed the room.

The room had all the grandeur of Wayne Manor, without the size. It was a large and circular room, with various noises coming from the objects scattered around the room. The walls were adorned with portraits of previous headteachers, all of whom were staring at Harry with interest. There was also an enormous claw-footed desk, with the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind it. Directly behind the desk sat Dumbledore, who observed Harry with a twinkle in his eye. On the opposite end of the desk was an empty chair. Next to Dumbledore, perched an odd looking bird that resembled a hawk, although it had a longer neck and it's feathers were crimson and gold.

"Hello, my boy," Dumbledore said, as Harry gawked at the bird. Dumbledore smiled. "Noticed Fawkes, have you?"

"Fawkes?" Harry repeated, sitting on the c.

"My Phoenix. The embodiment of rebirth. They become weaker as they age, until they are reborn after their deaths, where they become strong again."

"Sir," Harry said uncertainly, "I was told you wanted to see me?"

Dumbledore's smile widened. "I just wanted to see how you were settling in at Hogwarts."

Harry felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. "Do you have this talk with every student, Sir?"

"Ah, I must confess, I do not."

"Then why me?" Harry asked. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"I was worried about you," Dumbledore replied. "After the death of your Muggle relatives, nobody was sure of what happened to you."

"My Muggle relatives? You know about them?"

"Of course. After the tragic deaths of your parents, it was me who decided to task them with your care."

"'My care,'" Harry repeated incredulously, his anger growing, his voice becoming louder. "The people that locked me away, starved me, and beat me? You trusted them with me?"

"I believed it for the best. With your reputation as a saviour in the Wizarding World, I felt if you were raised with magic you would become vain and conceited."

"And you felt me being abused and hated was a better choice?" Harry yelled, his voice laced with sarcasm. "How do you even know that they were killed?"

"I admit, maybe your placement was not the best choice, but at the time I thought it best. And as for how I know, I have been keeping track of you, your safety was my top priority."

"You kept track of me!" Harry shouted. "Obviously not well, if you don't even know what happened to me. As for my safety being your priority, I was starved and ignored. Then I ended up going to America, that's where my 'family' were killed. Then I was adopted by somebody that actually cared for me, and taught me well." Harry stood up, his chair clattering loudly behind him in the otherwise quiet office. "If that's all, I would like to leave."

Dumbledore calmly raised his hand. "Unfortunately, that is not all."

Reluctantly, Harry pulled his chair back towards him and sat down.

"Professor Snape recently informed that there was an unauthorised duel a few days ago. Do you know anything about this?" Dumbledore was still wearing his grandfatherly smile.

Harry remained silent, weighing up his options. "No," he eventually said.

"Very well." Dumbledore smiled. "One more thing though, Hagrid informed you discovered my connection to Nicolas Flamel. I must stress this is not for you to investigate, and there is nothing hidden in Hogwarts. Now, you can leave."

Harry nodded, pushed back his chair, and walked away. One thought was in his head, _Investigate the connection, and find whatever is hidden in Hogwarts._

* * *

**_Review_ **


	13. Letters and Lies

Harry sat on his bed, penning a letter to Bruce. The morning sunlight shone through the room’s curtains, bathing the room in a soft orange glow.

_Bruce_

_I thought I’d write to let you know what’s happened since we saw each other._

_I ran into Hermione again, she apologised for the misunderstanding at Diagon Alley. I met a boy called Ron, he explained why there was such a big deal about me from the Purebloods (children with two wizarding parents), I ended the war because I killed the Dark Lord, and now some wizards think I’m their saviour. I met a guy called Neville as well, he seemed really nervous about everything._

_There was also a boy called Draco Malfoy. He tried to become my only friend, but I told him that I wanted to make my own choices on who to like. He didn’t like that answer so me, Hermione, Ron, and Neville all cast spells at him and made him leave._

_Neville, Ron, and Hermione were all sorted into Gryffindor, I was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin. Ask Alfred to explain the houses to you, if you need it._

_I’ve already made some friends in Ravenclaw, Padma and Michael. Both are wizard-raised, so they know more about magic than I do, but they say I’ll catch up quickly._

_And I met ghosts! Hogwarts is full of them, apparently it happens when you die, but want to stay._

_Classes are going well, and most are quite fun. I’ve had Charms (by my head of House), Transfiguration, History of Magic (not as fun as it sounds), Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Potions (by the Slytherin head of house, who does not like me, for some reason). There’s also flying lessons, where we learn the basics of riding brooms._

_We had our first lessons, but then Malfoy challenged me to a Wizard’s duel (which I won)._

_On to the most important bit, as we were leaving the duel, we found a Cerberus (a three-headed dog) that was standing on a trapdoor. Then we met up with a friend of my birth parents, and he accidently told us that Hogwarts was protecting something that involves the headmaster Dumbledore and his alchemy partner Nicolas Flamel._

_Then, Professor Dumbledore asked me to come to a meeting with him, about me and the Dursleys and my disappearance. I let my emotions get the best of me and yelled at him. But then he said that Hagrid had told him we knew about Nicolas Flamel. He told me that there is nothing hidden in Hogwarts (obviously a lie) and not to investigate. I can’t tell if he wants me to stop looking, or if he’s double bluffing._

_Can you research Flamel and Dumbledore to find a link, and Professor Snape (to figure out why he doesn’t like me)._

_Love you, Harry._

Harry reread his letter, and sealed it before walking to the empty Ravenclaw common room’s fireplace.

Harry had explained to Professor Flitwick about Bruce living in America, and the two had agreed it would be unfair for an owl to fly to another continent. And so, the common room had its fireplace granted access to the Floo network, specifically for Harry to send letters home. Harry placed the letter in the centre of the fire and picked up a pinch of Floo powder. He threw the powder into the fireplace and yelled, “Wayne Manor.” The fire lit up, a small green inferno rising from the pits, vanishing as fast as it appeared, taking the letter with it.

The letter materialised in the Wayne Manor fireplace, where it was spotted a few hours later by Alfred. Because of the time difference, it was early morning in America when the letter was found, but mid-afternoon at Hogwarts.

Alfred smiled as he realised the letter was from Harry, and he picked it up to take to Bruce, who was currently in his room, resting after a night patrol as Batman. “Master Bruce.” Alfred rapt his knuckles on Bruce’s bedroom door.

The door opened, and a bruised and cut Bruce stood. “Yes, Alfred?” he asked.

“Master Wayne, are you ok?”

“These?” Bruce indicated the damages and laughed. “Poison Ivy got the jump on me, nothing I haven’t felt before.” He waved his hand dismissively, before cocking his head to one side. “What did you come here for?”

“Master Harry has sent a letter.” He gently pressed the letter into Bruce’s hand, causing both to smile widely.

Bruce eagerly opened the letter, and began to read it aloud. His voiced became happy as he read about Harry’s friends and lessons, but faltered when he learnt of Harry’s duel and the Cerberus. “Alfred, get Zatanna on the communication system,” Bruce instructed, his tone fully serious now. “I need information on Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.”

Alfred pulled a device from his pocket and pressed some buttons. “Zatanna is being contacted now.” The two made their way to the Batcave, passing into the main hall and descending down the grandfather clock elevator. “Master Bruce,” Alfred started, “I recall my parents once teaching me about an alchemist named Nicolas Flamel. Although, this was fifty or so years ago, so it may not be him.”

“Any lead is better than no lead,” Bruce replied.

If I remember correctly, Flamel was a leading alchemist who was trying to create an elixir of life. I am not sure if he succeeded, or if it is even the same man.”

“So, somebody could be looking for the elixir of life,” Bruce acknowledged.

Entering the Batcave, Bruce was greeted by Zatanna’s face displayed on the Batcomputer. “What’s up Bat?” she asked.

“I need information,” Bruce responded. “Everything you know about Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel. You know about either of them?”

Zatanna nodded. “Course I do. Flamel is taught in school, he’s a world-famous alchemist. He was born over 500 years ago, and he invented the Philosopher’s Stone to keep him alive.” She paused while Bruce frantically scribbled the information onto a piece of paper, nodding when he was done. “Dumbledore is the headmaster for Hogwarts, which you probably knew, but he’s also a very big political figure with a lot of power. He’s the Supreme Mugwump, which means he’s Britain’s representative for the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Chief Warlock, meaning he oversees court procedures. He’s also an alchemist.” Zatanna grinned. “An alchemist who extensively worked alongside Nicolas Flamel for over sixty years.”

Bruce continued to write all of this down. “Flamel is likely to trust Dumbledore then? Enough to give Dumbledore something to protect.”

Zatanna shrugged. “I guess so. Why do you ask?”

“Harry found out that Hogwarts is protecting something. Something important enough to bring a Cerberus into a school full of children. Dumbledore told Harry to stop investigating, and Harry wants to know why. If you think of anything else I should know tell me.” Bruce ended the video call, and began to pen his reply to Harry.

It wouldn’t be until nearly midnight at Hogwarts when the Floo flared up, revealing a letter to a sleepy Harry who had sat waiting for a reply.

_Harry_

_I’m glad you’re making friends at Hogwarts._

_Try not to alienate potential friends by getting into fights with them._

_I’ve asked Zatanna for any information on what you asked._

_Dumbledore and Flamel are long time alchemy partners, but Flamel is known for creating the Philosopher’s Stone, which helps create an Elixir of Life. It is likely that the Stone is being hidden at Hogwarts._

_Dumbledore is double-bluffing. He wants you to look for the Stone, although I do not know why. Dumbledore is a high up in politics, representing Britain and overseeing courts. He knows how to give enough information to make people curious, he knows when to withhold information until it suits him, and he’ll know how to manipulate people to do what he wants._

_Be safe. Investigate all you want, but stay safe._

_Bruce._


	14. Halloween, Homicide, and Hermione

"So, that's it?" Hermione asked in the library, after Harry had read them an abridged version of the letter he had received from Bruce. "Somebody tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and so it was moved to Hogwarts for safekeeping. Mystery solved."

Harry shrugged. "I guess that's it."

The group, consisting of Harry, Hermione, Neville, Michael, and Padma, had no need to investigate any further, and so their conversation quickly turned to lessons.

"I don't want to start anything practical," Neville reluctantly admitted. "I'm not good at any of it, my Gran thought I was a Squib at first."

"What do you mean you're not good at it?" Harry asked. "Remember when you helped take Malfoy and his cronies down on the train."

Neville vehemently shook his head. "That wasn't skill or learning," he explained. "Magic gets stronger based on your emotions and willpower. They made me angry and so my magic improved. I can't do any of it in a classroom."

"Maybe you just need some extra help?" Padma suggested.

"I'm sure the Professors won't mind giving you lessons," Michael added.

"No use," Neville said glumly. "I'm not even using my own wand, my Gran's making me use my Dad's old wand."

"You're not using your own wand?" Harry interjected incredulously. "Ollivander told me that no wands are the same, and that they have to choose who they're going to belong to."

"I know," Neville said miserably. "But my Gran won't let me buy a new wand. She says it's a 'distaste to my father's memory.'"

"You're your own person Neville," Harry said gently. "You don't have to honour anyone's memory if you don't want to."

Neville sighed, sniffed loudly, but nodded.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of normalcy, no late-night duels, three-headed dogs, or investigating any mysteries. It was simply a normal student life, as normal as a life could be at Hogwarts.

Eventually, it came to be Halloween morning and the students of Hogwarts woke to the smell of fresh pumpkins baking, the delicious aroma drifting throughout the corridor. Live bats flew around the Great Hall, darting around the candles that were floating above the tables.

Even better though, was that the lessons were becoming more interesting and practical, as the class mastered the basics and the theoretical. In Charms, Professor Flitwick had decided that the class was ready to start using Wigardium Leviosa, a spell that all were eager to practice ever since the first lesson, when he had combined it with Diffindo and Incendio.

Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice with feathers that appeared in front of them. Harry was partnered with Padma, while Michael was paired with Sue Li (Harry sent him a look of pity, having to be paired with the girl he had never talked to).

"Remember the wrist movement," Flitwick instructed from the top of his pile of books. "Swish and flick."

Harry grinned to himself, this was one of the spells he could no with minimal problems. He swished and flicked his wand at the feather and clearly said, "Wingardium Leviosa." The feather made its way skyward, hovering a few feet above the desk. Harry made a mental note to give Hermione thanks for correcting his pronunciation of the spell on the Hogwarts Express.

Padma grinned and also did the spell, her feather joining Harry's in the air.

"Well done," Professor Flitwick shouted, clapping his hands in congratulation. "Everyone see here, Miss Patil and Mister Wayne have both done it."

By the end of the lesson the room was filled with feathers drifting lazily overhead.

Harry, Michael and Padma went to their next lesson, Herbology, where Professor Sprout instructed the class on how to use Incendio effectively on the various plants. "These are Spiky Bushes," Professor Sprout yelled. "You may cast Incendio on them but step back to avoid their needles." The Professor demonstrated the needed wand movement for Incendio, a movement that vaguely resembled a candle's flame.

The plant they were currently looking at was the Spiky Bush, a bush that looked relatively normal other than the large yellow spikes that protruded at various angles. All the students were wearing their dragon hide gloves, as well as thick leather undershirts to protect them from the plant's needle spray.

The class began their lesson, enjoying the chance to be allowed to launch streams of fire all while dodging a volley of needles.

By the end of the class, everybody was exhausted and drenched in sweat, both from the heat of flames and the running to avoid projectiles.

During their lunch, Harry realised that he couldn't see Hermione at her table, and so he went to where Neville was sat and asked where she was.

Neville blushed a deep red but whispered, "Ron made her cry in Charms." He nodded his head to where Ron was talking to Seamus and Dean. "Ask Parvati if you want to know more."

Harry gave his thanks and waved Padma over, and the two walked to where Parvati and her friend were sat and tapped her shoulder.

Parvati turned to look, her eyebrow raised at being interrupted. "Sorry," Harry started, "but we were hoping you'd tell us what Ron did to make Hermione upset."

Parvati's expression changed in an instant, leaning forward with excitement at spreading gossip. "So, we were in Charms first period, learning Wingardium Leviosa. You learnt that one yet?" Harry nodded impatiently, mentally urging Parvati to speak. "Well, Ron was having a little trouble with it, waving his arms around and saying the spell all wrong. Hermione decided to help him, and taught him how to pronounce it." Harry remembered how she had done the same for him, which he had been thankful for. "Ron sulked for the rest of the class when he still couldn't do it and Hermione could."

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Is that it?" Harry asked.

Parvati slowly shook her head. "When we were leaving Charms, Ron started talking to Seamus and Dean, saying she was a nightmare and that he could see why nobody can stand her. She's in the girls' bathroom on the second floor now, she's been there since first period."

Harry felt his anger grow at Ron and glared at him from across the table, and the redhead had the decency to flush his cheeks and turn away.

Padma and Harry both gave their thanks to Parvati, and retreated back to their tables. "Do we go see Hermione?" Harry asked.

Padma shook her head. "Gods, no. Hermione tries to be a logical person, the last thing she'll want is for people to see her in this state of emotion. Best thing for us to do is ignore it, and if she wants to talk about, we let her."

Harry sighed, but nodded. He began to fill his plate with food and soon he was back at his lessons, although his mind was still fixed on Hermione's wellbeing. During the lessons, Harry filled Michael in about what had happened, and Michael called Ron a few choice words that they were glad Snape didn't hear being said.

Soon, everybody was back in the Great Hall, the room full of casual conversation, while swarms of bats flew overhead. Harry scanned the Gryffindor table, but still couldn't find Hermione amongst the students.

He turned to look at the Halloween feast that had appeared and was about to help himself to some potatoes when Professor Quirrell sprinted through the hall, his turban askew and a look of pure terror fixed on his face. Everybody went silent as he rapidly reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, and he slumped against the table, yelling, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." He then collapsed to the floor in a faint.

The Great Hall went from silence to a loud uproar in a moment. It took several explosions from the Professor's wands to bring back the silence. "Prefects," Dumbledore ordered, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately."

The Ravenclaws got to their feet, and began to powerwalk in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower. They passed different groups of people scurrying in various directions. As they passed a group of Gryffindors, Harry realised. "Hermione!" he yelled.

"She doesn't know, does she?" Padma said, her voice sad.

"We have to help." Michael and Padma nodded.

The group changed directions, blending in with the Gryffindor group. They passed Ron and Harry roughly grabbed his arm. "Hermione is in the bathroom sobbing, with no clue about the troll. Prove that you're a Gryffindor, do the right thing and help us."

Ron hesitated, but followed the Ravenclaws towards the girls' bathroom. They heard footsteps behind them as they rounded a corner, and Harry pulled the group behind a tapestry.

Peering around it, they saw Snape cross the corridor and disappear from sight. "Where is he going?" Harry mused aloud. "He should be with the teachers in the dungeons."

Once the coast was clear, they left the safety of the tapestry and speedily crept along the corridor in the direction of Snape. "He's going to the third floor," Harry said meaningfully. Michael and Padma gasped in shocked, while Ron looked confused.

"What's so special about the third floor?" Ron asked.

Harry was about to refute any strangeness, when a pungent odour filled the air. "Do you all smell that?"

The group sniffed deeply, and instantly regretted it as the foul smell reached them, a mixture of uncleaned public bathrooms and sweaty clothes. Then they heard it.

A deep grunting, and the sound of loud booms of footsteps. Harry stopped the group from continuing onwards as he went around the corner.

The creature stood at twelve feet tall, its skin a dull, cobblestone grey colour, a thick body with an oddly contrasting small head on top. Its legs were short and broad with horned feet. In its arms was a long wooden club, that dragged along the floor.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It contemplated for a moment, before hunching and entering the room.

"Oh Gods," Padma muttered in fearful realisation. "That's the girls' bathroom."

The group glanced at each other before sprinting in the room. "Hermione!" Harry yelled, as Hermione tried to press herself against the far wall. The troll was advancing on her, swinging its club at the sinks and stalls as it proceeded, shattering them.

"Distract it!" Harry commanded, casting a Flipendo at the troll's back. The troll turned in confusion and gave a loud grunt as the other students assisted with their own spells. The troll was a few feet from Hermione, and she took the opportunity of its distraction to run.

The troll had other ideas for her though. The club swung through the air, and the children froze.

The club made impact with Hermione lifting her into the air, where she seemed to hover momentarily, before she fell, hitting the ground with a sickening thud and crack of bones.

"NO!" Harry shouted. Harry had thought he had been mad before. He thought he had been mad at the Dursleys for mistreating him, mad at the Joker for killing them, mad at Ron for causing this.

All of that was nothing compared to the burning wrath he currently felt at the troll. He suddenly understood what Neville had meant about magic and emotions being linked as he felt his magic flare around him.

No one else in the room knew what to do as Harry raised his wand with a focus somewhere between rage and serenity. "Diffindo." He slashed his wand repeatedly, casting the cutting spell. The troll was largely unaffected, a few small scratches appearing on its skin, the wall behind taking the most impact as the spell knocked debris from it.

"Incendio." What was previously only a small stream of fire was now far more powerful. An inferno of blue flames erupted from Harry's wand, and the troll groaned in pain as its skin blistered, the wall behind it blackening, the various pieces of the ruined wall igniting.

"Wingardium Leviosa." With a sweep of his wand, Harry levitated the flaming wall pieces, the detached sinks shards, and the remains of the stalls.

The objects hovered in the air for a few moments as the troll screamed in agony, before Harry thrust his wand forwards. The objects became a bombardment, showering the troll with the fiery stones, the sharp shards of sink, and the hard wood of stall.

The troll fell to the floor, wheezing heavily, but Harry advanced still. "Flipendo." What before was a mere nuisance for the troll was much more now. The trolls head ripped from its body as it was knocked back, colliding with the wall in a splatter of blood.

Harry panted deeply as he suddenly felt exhaustion at his efforts. He didn't realise the amount of noise he had made, and did not notice when Professors McGonagall, Quirrell, and Snape entered the room. Quirrell took one look at the charred and beheaded troll, gave a loud whimper and slumped on the floor, muttering to himself.

Snape examined glided swiftly to Hermione's body and examined her, shaking his head after a few moments.

Professor McGonagall walked over to Harry and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" she asked soothingly.

Harry didn't reply.

He simply walked over to Hermione.

He collapsed to the floor.

And he loudly sobbed next to her corpse.

* * *

**Feel free to review after this change.**


	15. Hospital and Hermione

Harry sobs echoed throughout the otherwise silent bathroom. Hermione's body lay on the floor, deformed and crumpled, with blood pooling around her skull.

"Mister Wayne," Professor McGonagall said, and Harry looked, seeing the unshed tears in her eyes. "There is nothing we can do." Harry shook his head, looking at Padma, Michael and Ron for support. Tears were freely running down Padma's cheeks, Michael contained his emotions although his lip constantly quivered, and Ron looked to be on the verge of either vomiting or passing out.

Professor Snape nodded. "Professor McGonagall is correct. Miss Granger is dead." His voice was neutral, with none of his usual malice or spite.

"No," Harry protested. "She can't be!" he half cried half screamed, silencing the room.

The silence was broken by a voice that echoed, as though it was being repeated as it spoke. "I... I'm dead?" The voice was young and female, and it was unmistakably Hermione's voice.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, looking at her body.

The body was still unmoving, the eyes glazed in a constant stare, the blood drying and matting her frizzy hair.

Harry looked around the room, and saw where Hermione's voice came from. Hovering a foot above the tiled floor, floated a transparent, silvery-grey version of Hermione, a spectral cascade of blood running down her face, fading out of existence before it met the ground.

"I'm dead?" Hermione repeated, her voice carrying in the room, as though all other noise had ceased.

"I, I ... I," Harry paused, stunned by the development. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "We were too slow." The troll –"

Hermione shook her head, silencing him.

Professor McGonagall took charge of the change of situation. "Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to the Headmaster's office, we will need to discuss this. Miss Patil, Mister Corner, please take Mister Wayne to the hospital wing."

"I'm fine," Harry protested, his pleas ignored by the teacher. "Let me talk to Hermione," he demanded.

Professor McGonagall turned and left, Hermione somewhat trailing awkwardly behind in the air, giving a final look towards Harry.

Padma and Michael both led Harry out of the room and through the castle's corridors, leaving Professors Snape and Quirrell to deal with the troll. "She's a ghost." Harry stated, still shocked. "How?"

Padma nodded, wiping her face wit the sleeve of her robe. "What do you know about ghosts?" she asked.

"Only what the Ravenclaw ghost told me," Harry replied. "They're the remainder of a person when they die, but they decided to stay here. Forever."

Padma smiled, although it was a weak smile. "I know you don't like what happened to Hermione. You're probably wondering why it had to happen in the first place. Nobody likes it. But, she's still here, she's going to be around."

"Good. I wouldn't want to do this without her," Harry responded, pushing open the door to the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Michael yelled into the empty room.

The walls of the room were lined with perfectly made beds, an office on the far side of the room. The door opened, and a grey haired woman with her hair pulled in a rough bun bustled out. "Yes?" the woman asked, her eyes focused on the three students.

Michael indicated Harry. "He's just taken down a troll. Professor McGonagall ordered him here.

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrow with apprehension, before sighing. "Very well, help him into a bed, and then answer my questions."

Padma and Michael helped Harry into the closest bed, Harry objecting all the while. His opposition to the bed rest ended when he entered the bed, and his body gave into the magical, physical, and emotional exhaustion, and he passed into a deep sleep.

His dreams were full of death, an odd amalgamation of all the murder he had seen over the years. The dreams were nonsensical starting with trollified version of the Joker entering Hogwarts only to kill Vernon Dursley who was dressed in Hermione's school robes.

The dreams varied from morbid thought to thought before ending suddenly, and Harry entered a dreamless sleep.

He woke with a start, sweat sticking his robes to his skin. Madam Pomfrey was stood near Harry's bed, organising a pile of objects on his bed stand, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the room's windows. "Madam Pomfrey," Harry asked, "am I allowed to leave?"

"No, Mister Wayne," she replied, her tone kind yet strict. "I will need to do a diagnosis on you in the future to see if you have recovered adequately, and regardless it is past your curfew. I recommend you go back to sleep, the Headmaster has given you the week off of your lessons."

"The week?" Harry reiterated. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days. I will go get you a Sleeping Draught." The healer left for her office, mumbling about 'a troll' and 'the nerve'.

She returned within the minute, ushering Harry to drink the lavender scented concoction. Harry gagged at the taste of the thick liquid entering his throat, and he would have complained if not for the fact that the potion had rendered him into an instant deep slumber.

Waking up, Harry groggily shook himself awake, looking at the sunlight that was now visible through the window. Madam Pomfrey walked over, waving her wand over Harry without a word. "Looks good," she informed. "You may leave, but try not to exert yourself."

Harry gave his thanks, and headed back to Ravenclaw tower. He penned a letter to Bruce explaining what had happened and his current thoughts, before Flooing it to Wayne Manor.

Hours later Alfred passed the letter to Bruce who read it eagerly. The letter was warped from dried tears and the letter had various words crossed out.

_Bruce_

_Hermione_ _has been murd killed_ _is dead. A troll got in. I_ _tried to save her_ _failed at rescuing her. She's a ghost now, but she might not have been. I want to make whoever is responsible pay. I want more training from more people._

_Harry_


	16. Mourning and Memories

_Bruce_

_Hermione_ _is dead. A troll got in. I_ _tried to save her but I_ _failed at rescuing her. She's a ghost now, but she might not have been. I want to make whoever is responsible pay. I want more training from more people. I don't know if I'll be back at Christmas._

_Harry_

Bruce and Alfred reread the letter for the umpteenth time. "Alfred," Bruce spoke. "Prep the Batplane. We're visiting the Grangers to give our condolences."

Alfred nodded obediently. "Sir, I shall also instruct Zatanna and Master Richard to find any suitable instructors for Master Harry."

Bruce gave his thanks, before heading to the Batcave. He turned on the Batcomputer and inputted the few things he knew about the family. _Daniel Granger, Emma Granger._

He hit search and waited for the results to come back. He grinned briefly as he looked at findings. Displayed on the screen was a driver's licence for one Daniel Granger. He looked at the picture to confirm it was the right man, before noting down the address. St Jude Street, Hampshire, London.

Bruce walked to the now prepped Batplane, where Alfred stood. "I have the address of the Grangers," Bruce informed. "Ready to go?"

Alfred nodded. "I have sent messages to both Zatanna and Master Richard. I assume they will reply by the time our business in England has concluded."

The two entered the sleek jet, and Bruce set the autopilot for the closest private airfield near the Granger's residence.

The flight would take around seven hours according to the autopilot system, so Bruce spent his time formulating what her would say to the Granger family.

Eventually settling on simply improvising and going with the moment, Bruce allowed himself to rest, trusting he would wake up upon descent.

Hours later, he awoke as the plane landed upon an airstrip. Bruce exited autopilot and manually piloted the plane into a nearby hangar.

Him and Alfred exited the plane, beginning the walk to the Granger's house.

Arriving at the house, they saw a large detached house, with an unmaintained garden full of trees and overgrown bushes.

Bruce took a breath through his nose before raising his hand and knocking on the door.

Daniel Granger opened the door, a tired look on his face. "Can I help you two?" he asked as he eyed up Alfred and Bruce's suits.

"Mister Granger," Bruce said, offering out his hand. "I'm here about Hermione."

Daniel's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hermione? Sorry, I don't think I know anyone with that name."

Bruce returned the confused look. "Your daughter? At Hogwarts?"

Shaking his head, Daniel now had a bemused look etched on his face. "My daughter?" he laughed, a genuine laugh. "I don't have a daughter, I think you have the wrong house. And Hogwarts? Never heard of it. I'll ask my wife, she remembers all these places and people." With that, Daniel turned his head and shouted, "Emma, can you come to the door."

Within the minute, Emma Granger had stood next to her husband, a polite smile on her face, equally tired as her husband judging by the bleary look in her eyes.

"Honey," Daniel said, "do we know a Hermione."

Emma's face briefly twisted into a look of thought. "Not that I can think of."

"Know a place called Hogwarts?"

Emma laughed. "I'd remember a place with a name like that."

Bruce held up his hand, silencing the married pair, sharing a glance with Alfred. "Maybe I do have the wrong house. Just to make sure, have you ever been to Diagon Alley?

Emma and Daniel both looked at each other before shaking their heads. "Never even heard of the place," admitted Daniel.

Bruce nodded. "My apologies, I must have the wrong house. Enjoy your day." He walked back along the garden path, Alfred beside him, before the Grangers could formulate a response. When the two were out of earshot of anyone, Bruce turned to Alfred. "Explain?" he asked simply.

"I believe the Grangers have been the subject of a spell known as Obliviate, the Forgetfulness Charm."

**Earlier that day**

" _Arnie." A woman said as she pushed open his office door, ignoring his look of annoyance as she sat on a chair, resting her feet on the man's desk._

" _It's Arnold," he corrected, knowing the girl would ignore him. "What do you want Morgan?"_

" _You not herd yet? Some girl got herself killed by a troll." Morgan explained._

_Arnold raised his eyebrow expectantly. "Your point?" he asked._

" _Muggle-born. We gotta take care of her parents."_

" _Ah." Arnold nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. "Can't have them remembering the Wizarding World. We leave now, I assume."_

_Morgan shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. Here's the address." She placed a parchment on the desk which Arnold read._

" _Let's go now," he instructed. The two appirated, leaving the room with an audible pop, reappearing near the Granger house._

_The two walked calmly to the house, transfiguring their robes into more mundane clothes. "Remember the drill?" Arnold asked._

" _Course," Morgan confirmed. "Knock 'em out, Obliviate, leave."_

_Arnold didn't respond, instead knocking on the door._

_The door opened, revealing a woman with brown, frizzy hair. "Hello," she said. "How can I help?"_

" _Emma Granger?" Arnold questioned. The woman nodded yes, and Arnold's reaction was instant. His wand was pointed at the woman, and he yelled "Stupefy." Emma Granger slumped to the floor, her body now exhausted._

_Arnold looked up at the stairs as an angry man charged down towards him, having heard and seen the commotion. Sighing, Arnold readjusted his aim, "Stupefy." The man flew unconscious down the stairs, only not being hurt by a quick Cushioning Charm by Morgan._

" _Nicely done, some quick thinking there," Arnold complimented. The two cast a levitation spell on the two bodies, moving them into the living room and on to the couch. The two Obliviators looked at each other before raising their wands on their targets. "Obliviate," they spoke in unison, and with that all memories of Magic and their daughter were stripped from their minds._

_The two ministry workers made their way around the house, vanishing any indication of a child living there._

_They erased all pictures of the young girl from the photos on the walls, what was once a picture of Hermione and her family at the park, was now simply a photo of Daniel and Emma that neither would admit to not quite remembering._

" _Done?" Arnold asked._

" _Done," Morgan confirmed. She glanced at the window, eyes widening as two people approached. One was middle aged with black hair, the other balding with a thin moustache, both dressed in expensive suits. "We gotta go," she told Arnold._

_Arnold nodded, and the two appirated away moments before Bruce knocked on the door._


	17. Questions and Quidditch

"They've been Obliviated?" Hermione asked, ghastly sobs separating her words, echoing in the otherwise quiet library although no one dared to tell Hogwart's newest ghost to be silent. "They don't remember me at all?"

Harry shook his head. "Apparently it's standard procedure when a Muggle-born dies. It's to protect the Statute of Secrecy. Can't have angry Muggles going around knowing about Wizards. Chances are, they Obliviated all of your family by now," he said apologetically.

Hermione wept loudly, silver tears running down her spectral face. "How did this happen? Why did this happen?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "But I'm going to find out, and I'm going to make them pay." He clenched his fists in determination.

Harry had the week off of his lessons, and he put them to use. Practically living in the library he took as many books as he could carry, subjects ranging from Defence Against the Dark Arts, to Potions, to Alchemy.

Someone was obviously trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and because of that Hermione was now dead.

He needed to be more prepared for danger, something evil was lurking at Hogwarts.

The next day, Michael and Padma walked from their last class of the day and headed to the library. "He needs a break," Padma complained. "We barely see him unless we go to the library."

"I know." Michael sighed. "You know he hasn't even slept in the dorm? He's been napping in library since he got out the Hospital Wing."

"We're getting him out." Padma strode with a newfound determination in her steps.

They walked to Harry's table, where Hermione floated nearby, Neville stood with her, picking up the books she requested.

Michael looked at Harry, realising how exhausted he looked, dark bags rested under his eyes, numerous plates of half-eaten sandwiches scattered around the table. "Harry," Michael started, "when was the last time you left the library?" he asked.

Harry shrugged, unfocused on the question. "Haven't. Need to read. Learn."

"You need rest," Padma argued. "You start lessons again soon, and you can't do them in your state."

Harry finally looked up. "Lessons? What did they help with?" He shook his head vehemently. "I'm doing this on my own." He looked back at the book he was reading.

"They're right." Hermione's voice caught them all by surprise. "You need to stop the obsession."

"But ... You died because of this," Harry argued. "You died because we couldn't protect you," his voice grew louder.

"I know, but that wasn't your fault, and this isn't your job." Hermione locked eyes with him. "You need to go back to a normal life."

"Quidditch starts on Saturday, we could go watch," Michael suggested.

"You hate Quidditch," Harry reminded him.

"True," Michael conceded. "But, I hate seeing you like this more."

Harry sighed, eyeing the hopeful looks of his friends. "Fine. We'll go watch Quidditch," he promised.

Hermione smiled, satisfied. "Did anyone tell you the news," she asked everyone. When everyone present, bar Neville, shook their heads, she continued. "I talked to Professor McGonagall about classes. There's no rule about Ghosts being in classrooms while classes are happening."

"So, you're going to carry on with your lessons?" Padma asked.

"Well, no." Hermione flushed slightly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Ronald without getting either hysterical or furious. So, I'm going to follow the Ravenclaw timetable."

"Speaking of Ron." Neville's voice was strained and hard, with barely restrained anger. "He's coming this way.

All present on the table turned, confirming an embarrassed and sheepish Ron was nervously making his way over. The red-head faltered when he realised all attention, and anger, was on him, but he showed his Gryffindor courage and continued to walk towards the group.

It took all of Harry's self control to not simply punch Ron as he approached. Self control that Neville evidently did not possess.

Neville's fist lashed out, catching Ron by surprise in his cheek, sending the ginger to the floor.

Ron made no attempt to retaliate as Neville stood, catching his breath. "How dare you!" Neville shouted. "What gives you the right to march up here after what you did?"

"I know," Ron yelled back, making no effort to stand back up. "How do you think I feel?" He paused, gathering his thoughts amongst the glares. "Do you know what it's like growing up in a Wizarding family, and then being shown up by a Muggle-born? You feel like a bloody idiot. And I got mad." He resigned himself to the angry glares as he looked to Hermione for the first time. "I know it was my fault that you were in that bathroom," he confessed. "But it wasn't my fault that the troll was there," he grew more determined. "And I'm willing to bet the little I have that whatever reason the troll was here has something to do with the third floor."

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, having a silent conversation, finishing with Hermione sighing and shrugging. "Ron," Harry said to the downed Ron, "sit down with us."

Ron's face became shocked, but he stood up gratefully and sat next to Harry. "Now," Ron asked somewhat hesitantly, "what's the deal with the third floor."

And so, the group pitched in at various parts, explaining Harry's duel, the third floor, the Cerberus, and the Philosopher's Stone.

"So, Snape let the troll in right?" Ron asked. "He was on the third floor when you were duelling, and he was there when the troll was let in."

"We don't know who it is," Harry replied. "But, we want stop them."

Ron nodded slowly. "I want in. If you'll let me." Ron looked at Hermione. "I need to make up for what I've done."

Harry and Hermione both looked at each other again. "Fine," Harry said. "We're meeting here everyday to brainstorm and learn. If you're serious, you can join us."

Ron joined the group, and for the next few days he joined the group in the library, treated somewhat apprehensibly by the others.

Eventually, Saturday rolled round, signalling the start of Quidditch season. The weather turned cold, turning the lake to a thick ice.

Harry, Padma and Michael made their way to the Ravenclaw portion of the viewing area, with Neville and Ron going to the Gryffindor section.

The Quidditch field was covered in a thin layer of frost which crunched as the two teams, Gryffindor and Slytherin, made their ways to the centre of the laying field where Madam Hooch was stood.

"Now, I want nice fair game, from all of you," she said once both teams gathered around her, her voice amplified by her wand. "Mount your brooms, please," she asked, and both teams complied, mounting their brooms as one.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew loudly, and all players took flight into the air.

The commentator, Lee Jordan, spoke from the commentator's stand. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – an excellent Chaser she is, and a rather attractive one too –"

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut Lee's off, who mumbled a half-hearted apology.

Harry zoned out the commentary, choosing to watch the game as the Slytherin Chaser sent the Quaffle to the goal posts, only for it to be blocked by the Gryffindor Keeper.

Angelina Johnson regained the Quaffle, hurtling towards the Slytherin side, throwing it with her might, and the crowd cheered loudly as she scored.

"Move along," a deep voice boomed, and the three Ravenclaws turned to see Hagrid approach. The three squeezed together, allowing Hagrid to sit with them. "Bin watchin' rom me hut," Hagrid said, patting a large pair of binoculars that rested around his neck. "But it ain't the same as bein' in the crowd. How's it goin'?"

"Gryffindor is winning," replied Padma, the only one of the three actually paying full attention to the match.

Lee's voice shouted loudly across the pitch. "Slytherin in possession, Chaser Pucey dodges two Bludgers –".

Harry stopped listening to the announcer as he watched the Slytherin Chaser avoid the two Bludgers, both of which swerved in the air, speeding towards Harry like cannonballs.

Harry stared, stunned, as the balls flew directly towards him, until he dived out of the way. The wood he was sitting on splintered as the black Bludgers crashed into it, sending splinters through the air.

The Bludgers retreated from the crumbled remains of the seat, zooming back towards the pitch, before regaining momentum and firing towards Harry.

However, now Harry knew what to expect, wand in hand he aimed and used one of the numerous spells he had learned from his extensive library time. "Bombarda," he shouted, thrusting his wand at the closest Bludger, which exploded with a loud bang and crashing of iron.

The surviving Bludger continued its path towards Harry, only to be caught in Hagrid's outstretched hands as it neared, who held it tightly until help arrived in the form of Madam Hooch, who deactivated the Bludger with a wave of her wand. The Bludger stopped struggling immediately, returning to a simple black orb.

Madam Hooch put her wand to her throat, her wand tip glowing silver. "This game of Quidditch will be postponed, on account of destruction and tampering of equipment," she announced her voice carrying throughout the pitch.

The crowd booed loudly, but began to leave. "Right," said Hagrid, "back to me hut for a cuppa?" he offered, to the nods of the three Ravenclaws. The four made their way to Hagrid's hut, only stopping when they arrived.

Hagrid began to boil a big pot of water on his open fireplace. "So, what 'appened on the pitch?" Hagrid queried.

"The Bludger must have been tampered with," Padma replied. "They're supposed to go for players equally, and never go for audience members."

"Wonder who tampered with it?" Hagrid said.

"It must have been Professor Snape. Everything points to him being up to something with the Philosopher's Stone."

Hagrid sighed as he pulled the boiled water off the fire. "You know about that now then."

Harry nodded. "Once we found out about Flamel and Dumbledore's connection, it wasn't that hard to deduce. Although, we didn't know for sure until you just confirmed it," he admitted.

Hagrid mumbled angrily to himself. "Fine," he grumbled. "And what's this about Professor Snape?"

"We think it's him doing all of this," Padma said.

A knock at the door stopped her speaking and everybody paused as Hagrid opened revealing a worn out looking Ron and Neville.

"It was Snape," Ron panted. "He jinxed the Bludger."

"Convenient timing," Harry muttered to himself.

"Get in," Hagrid ordered. "Now, someone tell me what you're all goin' on about Professor Snape for."

Michael took a breath. "He was outside the third floor when Harry found Fluffy. And he was at the bathroom when the troll was here. He has it out for Harry as well, explaining why he'd jinx the Bludgers." He looked at Ron to continue.

"Ok," Ron started. "The Gryffindor seating area was opposite the staff area, and Snape was staring at the Bludgers and was cursing it under his breath."

"Rubbish," barked Hagrid. "Yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. Dumbledore knows what he's doin' and if he trusts Professor Snape, you should as well."

The five students left, grumbling about Professor Snape. But something wasn't adding up for Harry.

* * *

**Review please.**


End file.
